In the Shadow of Your Heart
by firedew
Summary: Sequel to "Finding My Way." Will John and Teyla be able to face what's coming? Will their relationship survive? Set in AU of Season 5. Warnings: Violence, Sexual content, Language. Pairings: John/Teyla, Ronon/Keller/OC
1. Broken Ties

A few notes before you get started-This is the sequel to my story "Finding My Way." While it isn't absolutely necessary to read the other one first, I highly recommend it or a pretty good amount of confusion is bound to happen.

-Pairings: Primarily John/Teyla, with some Ronon/Keller/OC. I don't mind McKeller, but personally, I would've gone the other way.

-Warnings: Violence. Torture. Mild language. Some sexual content.

-Like the previous story, there will be a couple of cameos made by some of the canon episodes of the series, but they will not be the main story lines throughout and, being that this an AU, they'll be flip-flopped and twisted around to fit the new way things unfolded. Chapters 1, 2, & 3 come with a tag to Broken Ties.

-I don't want any lawsuits, because I really can't afford one. So, in that spirit, I say "I do not own Stargate. I do this for fun, not profit, so copyright fiends, bug off." =)

-Thanks to a _very_ long drive, some awesome mountain scenery, and Florence + the Machine's "Cosmic Love," for opening up my brain and sending the ideas for this one flooding through. The title of this one is taken from the lyrics to that song.

-Needless to say, I hope you like it!

* * *

**Chapter 1 – Broken Ties**

Landing the jumper in the bay was the easy part. Colonel Sheppard commanded the small craft with an ease that was practically innate and it responded as though it were a natural extension of himself. Getting Ronon from the floor to the waiting gurney was more of a challenge, but at least they had Major Lorne's team along for some extra muscle. As soon as he was laid out, Dr. Keller rushed in for triage.

"Doc, you'd better get a move on," John warned her. "We hit him with three stun blasts before he went down. I don't know how long he's gonna stay like this."

She tugged his shirt from one side to the other, taking note of his injuries, which were mostly insignificant and par for the course with Ronon. The glaring exception being the fresh, raw feeding mark over his chest.

"Let's get those restraints on and get him to the infirmary," she ordered. They needed to run tests as soon as possible to see how much of the Wraith enzyme was coursing through his system. She reached for the thick, leather straps attached to the base of the gurney, and took hold of Ronon's right hand.

It was a barely perceptible twitch, a movement that could have been easily explained away under other circumstances, but with Ronon, their resident lethal weapon, it was an indicator that set off alarm bells in John's head. He and Mason saw it at the same time and shouted warnings.

"Doc! Move!" John screamed at her as he went for the stunner holstered against his thigh.

Mason dove for her. "Jennifer!"

For all their speed, Ronon was faster. Propelled by the drug-induced edict to attack, his bearded face contorted savagely. He contracted his left arm and swung, hitting Dr. Keller square across the jaw with brutal force. Only Mason's quick thinking and powerful arms kept her unconscious body from crashing to the ground. He pulled her out of the line of fire and covered her in a protective posture.

In the instant John raised the stunner to his best friend and fired, it occurred to him. For the first time since she'd left, he was glad Teyla was gone.

* * *

It was dusk on the Athosian's new homeworld and Teyla was taking a walk by herself, taking in the last gasps of the fiery cascade of color in the darkened sky and the cool autumn breeze blowing over her. A short distance away, in the encampment, fires were being lit and she could hear the children still at play, enjoying the last light of the day before it was time for the evening meal and, inevitably, bed.

The last two weeks had not been easy. Everyone had known it would be difficult establishing a new home on a new planet with so few able-bodied adults left, but it was what they wanted. They could not return to New Athos. There were still too many phantoms of the past lingering for them there and, as much as they were welcomed by John's people, the Athosians never felt like they were truly useful in Atlantis. So, Rodney had started searching the Ancient database for a suitable place for them to resettle.

She yawned. The mind-numbing fatigue was starting early this evening, no doubt as a result of her spending all day in the fields, readying them for planting. It would not be long before she could hardly keep her eyes open, so she adjusted her course and ambled to her tent.

Once inside, she readied herself for bed. Tonight, there would be no tea and no stories around the campfire for her. She was too tired and the morning promised to be another early one. There was still much work to be done. Teyla pulled on a nightgown that, at one point, fit loosely on her body. She rolled her eyes in frustration. The material had grown tight around her expanding midsection and it wouldn't be much longer before she was unable to wear it. First, it had been her pants and it seemed her sleepwear was following suit.

She lowered herself to her bed and pulled the blankets over her. A small reflection of her life, they were a mix of the thicker animal furs of the Athosians and the synthetic fibers from Earth. The nights had not yet grown cold enough to need both. As a result, she often slept with her legs wrapped around the blankets, exposed, rather than underneath them. She could have removed one and been more comfortable, but Teyla found that when she would take one away, she felt a sense of being incomplete.

She rested against her pillow and closed her eyes. Then, she felt a delicate nudge flutter through her swollen belly. Teyla's mouth turned upward. She had reached the halfway point in her pregnancy and Dr. Keller had told her before she left to expect to feel movement soon. A few days ago, she had. She rubbed a hand over her stomach. "So, you have decided it is time to wake, have you? It is late, little one. The day is done."

Despite the joy she took from each tiny kick, she couldn't help but feel a myriad of other emotions tainting it. She wished John were here to share this latest milestone with her, to celebrate their baby's life together, but at the same time, she couldn't forget the things he'd said.

They had not parted on good terms. "_Damn it, Teyla! Don't do this!"_ still echoed in her ears. That was the last thing she heard him say before she walked out. He hadn't come to the gate to see her off and he still hadn't visited. She considered returning to Atlantis herself once her own initial anger had subsided, but the camp was several miles away from the gate, too far to walk in a short time, and she was needed here. The radio they had brought to the encampment had stayed silent. She'd received no word from him telling her when or if he planned on coming at all.

* * *

"Here you go."

"We have real ones here, you know."

"Not like this. Just hold still," Mason said softly, carefully pressing the makeshift ice pack to Jennifer's face with his huge, rough hands. "There. Mess hall's finest. I can personally vouch for their effectiveness."

She winced at the initial contact. It was both painful and cold, but the ice soon did it's job and started to numb her. Having not seen herself yet, she hoped whatever swelling there was went away quickly.

Standing back and shoving his hands in his pockets, he watched the tension in her face start to release. "So, how do you like being the patient, for once?" he asked with a smirk.

"It's not my favorite," she said miserably, letting her legs swing down from the infirmary bed.

"That's alright," he said. "It doesn't really suit you. I think I prefer things the other way around, too."

She tried to smile, but her sore lip objected harshly. "How's Ronon?" she asked.

"He's awake," he replied with a frown. "He's pretty bad." He wasn't kidding, either. His teammate was strapped down to a bed, flailing around and shouting loud enough to rattle the walls, demanding to be let go.

Dr. Keller nodded. Having just gone through this with Tyre, she didn't need to imagine what was happening. For now, Ronon was enraged and out of his mind, but soon, the withdrawal symptoms would kick in and he would get horribly sick.

She slid off the bed and said, "I really need to get back to work. I should check in on him."

He blocked her path, though, pulling his hands from where they hid long enough to clamp them down on her shoulders. "I don't really think that's a good idea, Jennifer. Let someone else take care of Ronon."

"I'm fine, Mason. Really. I can handle this," she argued. "You don't need to worry."

"I know you can," he agreed, "and I'll worry if I damn well feel like it, but that's not it."

She stopped trying to push her way past the big marine to hear him out. He pursed his lips and lowered his voice. "I don't think he should see you like this. He may not care right now, but trust me, he will. I sure as hell would, if I'd done that to you."

She was struck by the flash of intensity in the marine's blue eyes and his tone. Feeling slightly awkward, she trying to find her voice again, "Oh...I, uh...didn't even think of that."

"Is it that bad?" she worried aloud. With the way her face ached, she didn't have any illusions that it looked good, but...

Mason chuckled at the rare glimpse of vanity in the doctor. "You've looked better."

That was the Sgt. Capshaw she was friends with. Honest and blunt. "You have terrible bedside manner, you know that?" she said.

"That's why I try and leave the doctor stuff to you," he responded. "Don't sweat it,though. For my money, you're still the cutest doc in Atlantis."

Jennifer smiled and shook her head. The casual flirting was relatively new, but she enjoyed it. It was flattering and fun, drawing her away from her natural shyness without the added pressure that comes with a romantic relationship. "You shouldn't waste lines like that on me. Save them for someone who actually believes them," she said with a grin.

"Got anyone in mind?" he joked, but when she actually looked like she was going to throw a name at him, he stopped her with a more serious expression on his face. "Don't even think about it, Keller. You know as well as I do, there's no point. I'm not gonna last much longer around here."

"I don't think ever met anyone as pessimistic as you," she scolded him.

"With good reason..." he threw in.

"I haven't heard any complaints from you yet, this round, so you'll forgive me if I choose to think the glass is half full. I'm looking forward to the day when you won't have to be my own personal lab rat anymore."

"Of all of the crap I've had to deal with because of this," he said waving to his chest, "that's probably been my favorite." He gave her a slight push in the direction of the door and told her, "Now, let's get the hell out of here, before something else happens and somebody needs an actual doctor, because I don't think I'm ready for that, yet. Ice packs are pretty much where my expertise ends."

She obediently moved toward the exit and he followed closely behind, sliding his hands back into his pockets.

* * *

Richard Woolsey, the recently appointed head of the Atlantis expedition, a senior member of the IOA, and a man who was, in general, tightly wound, asked John, "Colonel, are you certain this is wise?"

From the gallery above, they looked down to where Ronon was using every ounce of his strength and athleticism as leverage against the bed and the restraints keeping him hostage. More than once, he nearly managed to the flip the entire thing over and the soldiers standing by had to intervene.

"Yeah," Rodney echoed with a pained expression on his face. "I don't think he's really in the mood."

"Look, I'm not gonna stay long and, if anything goes wrong, you two can call in the troops, but I'm going down there," John said. "He's not gonna do this alone."

Both of them seemed to accept his decision and, while he risked stating the obvious, McKay thought it was worth mentioning, "Try not to piss him off, okay?"

John didn't have the will anymore to make a show of being offended and just said, "I'll do my best, Rodney."

When he strode through the doorway to the lower level, Ronon ceased his maniacal tirade and glared at him. With his skin being as pale as it was and the dark circles surrounding his bloodshot eyes, it gave Ronon the look of a vampire, which was kind of appropriate considering it was the Wraith who made him that way. Being cautious, John stopped short of the bed and out of his friend's reach.

"How long are planning on keeping me prisoner?" he growled.

"As long as it takes to clear your head."

Ronon snorted. "I. Feel. Fine. You and the others, you can let me go."

"You may feel fine, but you look like hell," John told him. "And things are gonna get a lot worse before they get better."

"I don't know what you and Woolsey want, but it's not gonna work. You can either kill me, or you let me go." With each successive word out of his mouth, the Satedan's voice grew a touch more menacing and desperate. "Those are your choices, because if I have to get myself out of here, I won't stop until every last person in Atlantis is dead!" he snarled.

"You're already feeling it, aren't you?" John asked him. "That high you're jonesing on is starting to slip away. We're gonna get you through this, Ronon. I promise."

"You kill me or set me free."

"Sorry, buddy. It's for your own good."

Ronon screamed at him and strained against the taut leather holding him in place. "You kill me or set me free!"

The colonel turned around and walked away.

"John Sheppard!" Ronon bellowed, testing the limits of his muscle against the restraints, causing the leather to bite through his wrists. "You are a coward! A miserable coward! No wonder Teyla took your baby and left!"

As he stepped through the door, John knew that Ronon was still strapped to the bed and unarmed, but his parting words slid through the closing door like a knife that had been thrown. He suddenly felt like he'd taken a hit and he couldn't breathe.


	2. Where Things Stand

**Chapter 2 – Where Things Stand**

It took him hours, a meeting with Lorne, and a general immersion in his job to start to pull himself out of the pit again. At least with his work to distract him, he could pretend that his life was like it used to be. Sure, the business of Atlantis was always one adventure after another, but his personal life had been uncomplicated and simple, a far cry from the way things were now.

He spent extra time in his office that night. He read through the performance evaluations he'd been putting off for a while. Even after he finished reading the latest mission reports from all the off-world teams, he stayed to rework the rotation schedules for the next month, searching for ways to maximize efficiency without hurting morale.

He took a look at the absurdly clear desk in front of him. It strongly resembled his father's desk at the house on Earth and a shudder ran up his spine. He realized he'd turned into Woolsey's ideal version of himself, all in a sad and futile attempt to avoid going home. Pristine paperwork with all the I's dotted and the T's crossed. Flawless, and completely not who he was.

He flicked his wrist and knocked over the cup he kept his pens and pencils in, scattering them all over the the desk and floor. He took his carefully planned schedule and threw it in the wastebasket. It was a small act of rebellion and childish, but at least it was something. If nothing else, he could control what his desk looked like.

He bypassed the transporter entirely and started the long walk across the city toward his empty quarters.

* * *

Jennifer marched to Mason's quarters in her pajamas and in a hurry. It was well past midnight and the hallways were clear of people, a fact she was thankful for. She didn't want to waste a second weaving her way through a crowd. Her rapid pace fell short of a run, but only technically.

She had been looking in her bedroom mirror, getting one last look at the damage before she went to bed. There was a nasty, purple bruise over her jawline and up across one cheek, but she had been spared the fat lip she was afraid of and there was very little swelling. The ice had done it's job. It had occurred to her that Capshaw had been right. Maybe the ice from the mess hall was better than the ice packs she kept in the infirmary. Why? She had no idea. They were living in the lost city of Atlantis. It could a magical, Ancient-y type of ice that held mysterious powers to heal or it could have more to do with the fact that it was shaved ice and molded to the injury better than standard packs.

But, it had been the ice that made her think and then re-think.

She didn't bother with the bell outside his door. She banged on the metal doorway with a ferociousness that made her hand ache.

When he answered, still in his uniform from earlier, she didn't think anything about the hour and that he should have been in bed by then. She stared straight into the friendly, charming smile he flashed her and demanded, "Show me your hands."

He dropped the act and the smile fell, but he didn't move.

"Show me. Right now."

He slowly lifted them into the air, stopping when they hovered in front of her. They were shaking.

Her hopes fell. She had been praying the whole way there she was wrong. She wanted to see nothing and have him call her overprotective and paranoid. "How long? How long has it been this time?"

"A week," he admitted. He grasped her shoulder and pulled her inside.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

As the door slid shut behind her, she put aside friend mode and slipped into her doctor shoes. "It doesn't matter right now. I'm gonna go back up to the lab and start putting together something else."

"Jennifer...," he said, shaking his head.

"We just need to try something in a different class, something with a chemical make-up your body hasn't developed a tolerance for," she said. The ideas she and Carson had previously thought up and rejected for one reason or another, reran through her head. "Or maybe a nerve block. I'm sure we could find some way around the paralytic effects. I'm gonna talk to Dr. Brown in botany again. I haven't seen anything reported yet, but you never know what may have shown up. Maybe they've got some plants we can use to manage the pain..."

"Jennifer..."

"And from now on, I'm gonna be watching you like a hawk! I can't have you pulling this tough guy crap on me anymore! If I have to do a blood draw every other day to get a straight answer, that's what I'm prepared to do. The second your levels start to change..."

"Jennifer, stop."

"But..."

"No!" he shouted. He bit his lower lip, checking himself.

"Mason..." she said warily. Since this seemingly endless saga started and she had gotten to know him better, she could tell when things were good. He was much freer with the jokes and with his time. There was a change in the way he walked and the way he carried himself. Every time, the new drug treatments would work wonders for a while and the never-ending pain in his old injury would go away. But, inevitably, his body adjusted, the pain meds worked less and less, and he would start to retreat. She should've noticed if he had been hiding this for a week. Either he was getting better at hiding it or, more likely, she didn't want to see it. He was her friend and the idea that he was walking around, doing his job to the best of his ability, with his chest on fire made her sick to her stomach.

"I'm tired, Jennifer," he said. "I'm sick of the whole dance."

"I'm not done, Mason. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve."

"Do you?" he asked. Doubt dripped through his words. "'Cause this is...what? The fourth time? The fifth? I don't think I have it in me to do this anymore. Eventually, you're going to run out of brilliant ideas and I'm going to be stuck! I either walk around in too much pain to function...," he paused. He was pissed off his life was coming to this and he was trying not to take it out on her. "...or I'm going to spend the rest of my short, miserable life a damn junkie. But, no matter what I do, my career is over!"

"We're not there, yet."

"Spare me the pep talk, Jennifer! I've heard it all before! I am sick and tired of you doctors making promises you can't keep! Telling me I can have a normal life, when I can't! Don't...!" He came to a sudden stop and bit his tongue, when he realized what he was doing. He turned away from her and stared at the floor, trying to rein in his temper.

"I'm sorry, Jennifer. I didn't mean that," he said, clearly apologetic and tired. "Just...just go."

She took in a deep breath, gathering herself. "Okay. I'm going but, I'm coming right back." Before he could try and argue, she continued, "You need to get some sleep and you aren't going to get any when you're like this. I'm going to the infirmary to get some sedatives and I don't want you to move while I'm gone."

She had taken that tone with him. That soft, but stern tone that somehow got even the most cantankerous of patients to cooperate. He, reluctantly, nodded in agreement. His burning desire to feel nothing overrode his distaste and shame. He was a United States Marine. Special Forces trained, a war veteran, and involved in the most important discovery the planet Earth had ever seen, and he needed a medical assist just to go to sleep.

"Okay."

She wasn't done. Still at her most authoritative, she warned him. "We're gonna talk about this in the morning, when you're feeling better. You can whatever you want, I'm not letting you give up."

* * *

John sat down on the bed and unlaced his boots, taking them off of his throbbing feet. He kicked them out of the way and walked out of the bedroom. He was tired, but he didn't have any intention of sleeping in there. He spent his nights on the couch in the living room, because he couldn't face the empty side of the bed. It was too hard. He would rather brave a stiff neck and an achy back from the lumpy couch than know he might reach for her in his sleep and find no one. He couldn't roll her onto her back and get lost in her body, the same body that protected his child, defied description and seemed sexier to him with every day that passed. He couldn't send his hands across her stomach and try to make some small connection to his growing baby.

He had just gotten a beer out of the fridge and popped the lid off on the edge of the counter, when he received a late-night visitor of his own.

"Hey," Rodney said. "I just left Ronon. Can I come in? I know it's late but..."

John stepped aside. "Come on in. You want a beer?"

"No, that's okay. I don't..."

"Have a beer, McKay," the colonel ordered.

"Okay."

Dr. McKay followed John into the kitchen and accepted the cold bottle he was handed. He glanced around. John and Teyla's quarters were decorated in an odd mix of items that, in lesser hands, would have screamed 'Athosian bachelor pad'. But somehow, Teyla had taken their things and weaved them together into something coherent and complementary. "This is a nice place. Have I told you that before? I'm thinking about talking to Woolsey about getting one for myself."

John smirked. Rodney wasn't one to be outdone by anyone at anything. It ate him up that Carter had denied him one of the larger-sized family quarters and it appeared he wasn't above making a run at Woolsey. "You'll get it. Nobody deserves it more."

"Really?"

"Nope," the colonel quipped. "How's Ronon doing?"

"Sick. Really sick," McKay frowned. "I mainly came by to see...if you were okay, though."

John took a drink from his bottle. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well...it's just..."

"What?"

Rodney inhaled deeply and shuffled his feet. "What Ronon said in there, is it true? Did you and Teyla...? I only ask because it would actually explain a lot."

"Like what?" John asked. He thought he was doing a pretty good job keeping things tucked away, but if Rodney, of all people, had noticed he was off, then maybe he was way more screwed up than he thought.

"Like why you've been acting so..."

"McKay, you're a genius. Why don't you try finishing a sentence?"

"Distant. There. You've been acting like you've been on another planet lately. And I don't mean a _planet_ planet...You know what I mean."

"Distant," John said, considering the word suspiciously. "That's not one of your words, Rodney. To you, distance is a measure from one point to another, not a behavior that applies to real people."

"Okay. Katie might've helped me with the word, but the rest of it was all me."

"Katie Brown?"

"We got back together," he stated and when John raised his eyebrow in question, he added, "There...may have been some...grovelling."

"May have been? Rodney, girls don't like it when they find out you were planning on proposing and then you don't."

"Okay, I got on my knees and begged to her to come back. I grovelled. I confess. I suppose that means I've lost some 'man points' or something?"

John smiled and shook his head to himself. Rodney's love life was healthier than his. It seemed wrong somehow, like the universe was having a laugh at his expense. He took another swig from his bottle. "Good for you, McKay. Really."

"So, is it true?" Rodney asked again, circling back around to the original question.

John answered him as if it were another one of the baseless rumors that flew around the city. As though he'd said it a thousand times, recited it in his head a thousand times. "Teyla didn't _leave_ me. She just left."

"Then, why did Ronon...?"

"Rodney..." he said getting frustrated. He didn't want to talk about Teyla. Not to Rodney. Not to Ronon. Not to anybody. "Because! He was trying to push me into doing something stupid."

"Yes, I deciphered his very subtle, crazy man code and figured out that much, but if it weren't true, how could he expect...?"

"Just...!" John clenched his jaw and glared at the pushy scientist. "Teyla and I had a huge fight right before she and the other Athosians left. Okay? I...," he faltered, "I honestly don't know if she left me or not. There. Are you happy?"

"Oh," Rodney deflated. Despite having doubts enough to ask the question in the first place, he seemed astonished at the answer. "But, you two have had fights before..." he added hopefully.

John shook his head. "Not like this."

"What happened?"

"I was caught off-guard with the whole 'leaving the city' thing and I didn't handle it too well," John admitted.

"But, you knew the Athosians were leaving."

"I didn't know Teyla was planning on going with them."

"And you didn't want her to go?"

"No!" he said a little too harshly. "Yes...No, I didn't want her to go, but it wasn't about that. I didn't think she should be so far away from getting help. You know...just in case."

"Just in case?" Rodney asked. Then, he remembered. "Oh."

John nodded.

"She's better now, isn't she? I thought Dr. Keller said she was fine."

"Yeah," he said. "She's fine."

"But, you still didn't want her to go?"

John didn't know how to communicate what was bothering him. "You weren't there, Rodney."

"I know," his friend said sadly.

"You didn't see it. You didn't have to watch it happen. You weren't the one trying to wake her up, waiting for Keller and Beckett to get there!" he ranted, feeling the same anger he had directed at Teyla resurfacing.

He had listened to Teyla explain what her plans were. She told him that it would only be for a while, just until things were set up and taken care of. She reminded him of her duty to her people and their need to be united while they went through the recovery process. On some level, he understood it and, had circumstances been different, he would have been fine with her going. He would have missed her, but he would have dealt with it. But, that's not how things went.

Barely a month after hearing his baby's heartbeat for the first time, his nightmares had come true. Throughout her first trimester, Teyla's morning sickness grew worse by the day and the anti-nausea medication only did so much. She got to the point where she couldn't eat anything and, as a result, got thinner and weaker.

She had come to the control tower to see him, to talk to him. She could have radioed. She didn't have to come, but he hadn't been around much. The Wraith in-fighting was in full swing and a few hive ships had come to blows uncomfortably close to the city. Security was on constant alert, ready to cloak the city and fight, if it came down to it.

One of the Athosian kids had wandered off and she was hoping he could spare some men for a search, but she never got far enough to ask. He had just come out of his office. He spotted her as she reached the landing at the top of the stairs. He started to smile at her in greeting, but then he saw her face. He watched her skin turn ashen and her eyes close. He shouted her name, alerting everyone else in the tower to the urgency of her situation. He ran, and he wasn't the only one who tried to reach her, but it was too late.

Then, there she was, nineteen weeks along and she was standing in front of him, telling him she was leaving. Things were finally going the way they should. She had traded in her flat stomach for something decidedly rounder, the morning sickness had cleared up, and her appetite was rapidly approaching the formidable Dr. McKay's. He was just starting to relax again and she was going to another planet with no doctors around. He lost it.

"Can we just...leave it alone?"

"It couldn't have been that bad," Rodney said.

John shook his head. "Trust me, McKay. It was bad. I said some things...things I shouldn't have."

Rodney was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. "You haven't talked to her at all?"

"Nope."

"So...you're in some sort of holding pattern?"

"I don't know. I guess."

Rodney was in way over his head with this advice stuff. He wished Katie were there, or Jennifer. Even Cadman's harping in his ear would have been helpful in this situation. As it was, he was on his own, woefully unprepared and working in foreign territory. "Well...how are you supposed to know where you stand, if you never actually talk to her?"

"I'm gonna talk to her, Rodney. I will. I just...I can't just pick up and go. Not with Ronon..." While it sounded like the truth, John hated that it felt so much like a cop out.

"You've talked before," he pointed out. "It shouldn't be too hard. She's still Teyla, even if she's your...girlfriend now...or live-in love...or baby mama..."

John shut his eyes and prayed for death. He groaned, "Please, stop."

"I'm only trying to help."

"I know that, but if you don't stop, I'm gonna be forced to shoot you."

"You wouldn't."

"I've done it before," John reminded him. "I think I still remember how."

Rodney shook his head at John. After a few moments in thought, he asked, "What are you two anyway?"

John set his beer bottle on the counter and said, "Okay, I'm getting my gun."

McKay threw up his hands in surrender. "Strictly a terminology question! I can't seem to find the right word, is all. Nothing really seems to fit."

John sighed and shook his head. He picked up his bottle and started drinking, when McKay tacked on, "Unless you're gonna marry her. That, at least, would present a few more possibilities, vocabulary-wise."

Caught mid-swallow, Sheppard choked on his drink and went into a coughing fit.

"I guess that's a no," McKay said.

It took him a minute, but John finally got his respiratory system in working order again. "Rodney, Teyla is currently living on another _planet_. Without me. I think the marriage talk can wait for a while. And _if_ I decide to get married again—and that's a big 'if'_—_you would be the last person I would tell."

"That's not true," Dr. McKay disagreed, but then suddenly doubted himself. "Is it?"

"Okay, maybe not the _last_ person," John granted him. "I'd definitely tell you before I'd tell Sergeant Murphy."

Rodney thought and thought and came up blank. "Who?"

"Exactly," John said with a smirk.

* * *

With a set of pre-packaged syringes and a tiny bottle of medicine in her hand, Jennifer slid in her keys and locked the sliding door on the medicine locker. The night nurse gave her an acknowledging smile. She slipped the items into a small plastic bag and made a quick stop in her office. Sgt. Capshaw's status as a chronic case kept his medical file on her desk most of the time and tonight was no exception. She flipped open the file and made a note on his chart regarding the latest developments.

Sitting directly next to Mason's thick brown file, was Ronon's. In three years since he came to the city, Ronon had built up quite the hefty file, too. She snickered to herself and briefly thought about pulling Col. Sheppard's, too, just to see how the three measured up to one another.

She flipped open Ronon's file and read Dr. Cole's orders, written an hour ago. After putting up a hell of fight, Ronon had finally gotten so sick, he couldn't anymore. The doctor was able to get close enough to him and he'd been given one of the most powerful sedatives they had in stock. She snapped the file closed and set in back on her desk.

Dr. Cole was a great doctor, but Jennifer wished Carson were there. Dr. Beckett spent more of his time off-world these days than he did in the city. He was doing a lot of clinical work in the towns and villages around Pegasus, seeking some sort of absolution for doing the things he had done while he was held captive. Jennifer understood why we did it, but the Scot was the best doctor in two galaxies and Ronon deserved the best.

She walked across the upper gallery overlooking him. He was asleep, thanks to the sedatives, but as was often the case with medicine induced sleep, it was restless. He still quivered and moaned from the torment his body was getting put through. With every sound, she grew sadder.

She'd seen him through a lot of situations. Gun shot wounds, stunner fire, broken bones, more stitches than she could ever count, but this was different. Normally, he was so big, intense and full of life. He was a force unto himself, like nothing in the galaxy could stop him. She could hardly get him stitched up before he was off again, going after the bad guys. He had a way of making her feel like her life, by comparison, was small. And the Wraith had managed to take such a strong, powerful man and strip him of everything he believed in.

Capshaw was right. She should keep her distance from Ronon for a while, at least until the bruising lightened up and could be covered. This whole situation would be a devastating blow to his Satedan sense of honor, whether it was justified or not. It would hard enough for him to deal with, without a visual reminder throwing it in his face.

She had to go. She had someone waiting, someone she could actually help. "Hurry back, Ronon," she said quietly.

* * *

Teyla rested on her knees as she plugged the final sapling into it's new home. Her morning had been spent moving from hole to hole, planting the young fruit trees they had brought with them. She pushed the pile of dirt around to cover the roots and sighed. Her back was beginning to ache.

She found that getting her legs and body properly balanced was getting more difficult all the time. After putting in more of an effort than she would've liked, she stood up. She arched her back, trying to work out the kink the had developed, but stopped short when an intense pain shot up from her stomach. She winced and her right hand clutched her rock-hard belly.

From her left, Halling asked, "Teyla, are you alright?"

She massaged the area and with the other hand, wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. "Yes, I am fine. I fear I may have stretched a bit too far."

Halling smiled. "I recall my wife doing the same thing often, when she carried Jinto. She would stretch or twist or turn too quickly and the same look would pass over her. She always said it was a good sign. That the child was growing quickly and needed more room to play. I am not certain I ever believed it, but it was nice to think so."

"I do not believe she would ever lie to you, Halling. She did not have the heart for it," Teyla said. "I, for one, choose to believe her."

Turning her gaze back to the little trees, she said, "That is the last of them."

He nodded. "I will see that they are properly watered, if you would like to rest."

She frowned. "I am not accustomed to having to rest so much, Halling. I am not suited to it. There must be something else I can do."

"Is it the rest you object to, Teyla? Or the quiet time where troubling thoughts have been known to run rampant?" he asked.

Teyla stared at him. He had known her far too long and far too well for her to ever deceive him. "I believe it is both. But, I admit, the quiet time is very difficult."

"You miss Colonel Sheppard. It is only natural."

She did miss him. She missed him terribly, but she wasn't certain how she would feel if he were to show up after all this time. She might kiss him or she might, just as easily, hit him with one of her bantos rods. She had not forgiven him for the things he had said and with every passing day, she grew more upset that he hadn't come, so they could begin to set things right.

"Halling, I need a task. Rest will have to wait for a little while longer."

The tall man surrendered to Teyla's determination. "I believe that Feylon and Jol were having a discussion about the fields. Perhaps, you would care to join them?"

She grimaced. "I cannot think of anything I would enjoy less, but I will go. Thank you, Halling."

"You are always welcome, Teyla."

She could see Feylon and Jol arguing from where she stood. They were seated at a small table in front of the main tent, where the Athosians took their meals together. Feylon was one of the oldest of her people to survive. He was about sixty-five and had strong opinions on nearly every subject that came his way, ranging from the Wraith all the way down to the spiced stew they had for dinner the night before. Jol was of a similar disposition, but couldn't have disagreed more with Feylon if she tried. She also happened to be the one who made the spiced stew.

They had a diagram of the encampment and the surrounding areas on a map, spread out in front of them. Jol was pointing at one particular area on the paper so hard, Teyla was sure her finger would poke a hole in it at any moment. "Do you have any idea how much work it would be to create irrigation to that area? This is a far better location. It is near the river."

Feylon was quick to counter. "Yes, it is near the river. The Lanteans warned us that that area is prone to periodic flooding. It would be ideal for our crops if we solely wished to drown them, but since we have other intentions, we must look elsewhere!"

"Know-it-all..."

"What, may I ask, is the trouble?" Teyla interrupted.

"Teyla! Finally, a reasonable voice," Feylon said with relief.

Jol rolled her eyes at the man's comments. "We have been going over our data. As things stand, we fear the fields we currently have will not be enough to feed everyone through the winters on this world."

"They are longer than we knew on New Athos. We must be prepared to keep more in store," Feylon agreed.

"I have already made arrangements with the Lanteans and our other friends on other worlds to meet our needs for this coming winter, so there is no great urgency and therefore no need to argue," Teyla reminded them. "I hope we can discuss this with as little bloodshed as possible."

"Wise words," Feylon said, pointedly staring at Jol. "You may as well put your cooking pot away, Jol. You will not be cracking my head with it, today."

"The day is not yet over."

Teyla sighed and brought a chair over to sit with them and figure out where the best place for the new field would be. They were finally able to come to a consensus and plans were made to break ground in the next few days.

Jol held up her hand as she finished some more figures. "We were not prepared to need the additional crops." She grimaced. "We aren't going to have enough seed to complete the planting."

"We do not have much to trade for extra seed, Teyla," Feylon said. "We are not so well off as we once were."

"Then, it is fortunate that we have such good friends, is it not?" Teyla said.

Teyla sat back and sighed. Her stomach was still tight and the increasingly active baby had started to flip underneath her ribcage, leaving her slightly short of breath.

Jol noticing her discomfort said, "Teyla, you should go and put your feet up. It's not good for the child to have you working so much."

"Teyla, you're doing fine. Plenty of work keeps the blood circulating," Feylon countered.

She didn't think she possessed the patience to take anymore of their bickering. "I thank you both for your concern, but I do believe I am feeling quite tired all of a sudden. If you will excuse me?"

As Teyla walked toward her tent, Jol poked Feylon's shoulder. "See what you did? She has enough to worry about without you burdening her further."

"Teyla is not some fragile flower. She is made of stronger stuff than most," he reminded her. He continued on with a tone of respect for his leader, "She possesses the gift and has walked through much turmoil and been made all the stronger for it. However well intentioned, she does not need everyone around her treating her like an invalid."

Jol set her hand on top of Feylon's. "That child will be the first of the next generation of the Athosian people. While each new life is special, this one is more so, and we must safeguard it's well-being at all costs."

"Don't worry, my friend," he answered. "We will. This child is doubly blessed, for we will also have all the might of Atlantis to aid us."


	3. No More Hiding

**Chapter 3 – No More Hiding**

"Come along, Jinto," Halling said. They stepped away from the stargate and, after a few moments, the active wormhole disappeared. The village of the Kysonians was not far. They could already see smoke from the chimneys rising into the air. Like most of the peoples in Pegasus, they led simple lives. The Wraith had been as hard on them as any other world, but they took what they could salvage from every culling and kept on trying to make a decent life for themselves. They had been trading partners with the Athosians for generations. Teyla had been introduced to them by her mother and her mother before her. They had a peculiar penchant for formality in all things, which the Athosians did not share. Where the Athosians tried to keep things fair and simple, trades and purchases with the Kysonians often involved a lot of contracts and paperwork, and things were always done within the proper chain of command. Halling believed Mr. Woolsey of Atlantis would enjoy this particular culture. They had much in common. They were a very honest people, though, and they often made the nuisance worth the effort.

Once they reached the center of the small town, they had only to seek out the Council Elder, Padrel, to make arrangements for the crop seeds they required. He, as the leader of the Kysonians, was the only one empowered to broker trade deals with other worlds. Padrel was a stout man of about seventy years with a full graying beard. He always met them with a cheerful disposition and a loud, booming voice.

"Halling! It's been too long, my friend, too long!" Padrel said as he energetically shook his hand. "It's good to see you. And you, Jinto. You have grown, young man," He took a turn with the teenager's hand. "We had feared the Athosians lost."

Halling spoke in his calm, dignified manner. "We, indeed, lost many, but we survive."

"And Teyla?"

"Teyla is well. She sends her regrets she could not come herself. We are currently making a new home for our people."

"I see. I hope there is something we can do to assist you," the man offered. "Do you need men? We have many skilled hands who can be spared to help with anything you need."

"That is very generous of you, Padrel, and I thank you, but it is unnecessary. We have come to see if you can spare a few sacks of regros and tava bean seeds. We are preparing our fields and it seems that we require more than we have on hand."

Padrel stopped and thought for a moment. "I believe we can accommodate you. I would, of course, have to check the stores first."

"Of course," Halling agreed.

"Shall we?" Padrel asked. The town stores were in a large building adjacent to the main Council building. It was placed so close by for the convenience of travelers in situations such as this.

"Incidentally, Halling, before you take your leave of us, remind me to check your proxy allowance. I believe it will be coming due again, soon," Padrel mentioned.

The proxy allowance was the contract that made it possible for Halling to conduct trade for the Athosians with the Kysonians. In their culture, only the rightful leader was permitted to make trades on either side. Padrel, as the Council Elder, for the Kysonians. Teyla Emmagan, for the Athosians. Every year since Teyla had been living in Atlantis, she had had to return to Kyson to renew the contract for Halling to be allowed to trade on her behalf. Without a current signature, Teyla would have to appear in person to make any deals.

They crossed the main entrance of the storehouse and Padrel made a request from the clerk to see the inventory ledger. Halling and Jinto maintained a respectful distance, as was proper etiquette for the Kysonian people.

Halling had brought Jinto along on many such trips to many worlds, so the teenager could develop his skills in diplomacy and bargaining. He felt it more vital than ever that his son know exactly what to do in case something happened to him. With so few Athosians remaining, Jinto needed to be prepared to stand up for his people should it come to that.

While they waited, Jinto whispered to his father, "Why did you refuse the offer of help? We are in need of it."

"Our enemies have not forgotten us, son. We now protect the location of our new home, as the Lanteans do theirs. It is the only way to ensure that the Wraith, or the Mast...Michael, or any others who would harm us, are kept at bay," Halling explained in a whisper. He caught his mind slip mid-sentence into a remnant from his ordeal. Michael was no longer his master. He vowed he never would be again. "We cannot trust anyone to keep our secret for us. Times are too dangerous and people's minds are too easily persuaded."

"I understand," Jinto said with a nod.

"Good news, my friend," Padrel told them. "We have what you require!"

"I am glad to hear it," Halling replied. "What would you have for payment, Padrel? We do not have much, but we are willing to grant you any fair offer."

Padrel chuckled. "I know you are, my friend. We have done this too many times for me to doubt your word now." The man made a show of considering what to ask for, then said, "The friendship between the Athosians and the people of Atlantis is well known. Perhaps, you would be willing to make a request of them on our behalf. In exchange, I am willing to make a gift of the seeds."

Halling and Jinto exchanged a puzzled look. They had no idea what the Kysonians would want with the Lanteans and they weren't a people in the habit of making gifts of things, either. It dirtied the bottom line. "May I ask what the request is?"

"I have heard troubling rumors, of late. Recent travelers have been talking of a plague ravaging other worlds," Padrel revealed. "Stories of people dying in great numbers."

"A plague?" Jinto asked.

"Indeed. We have not been effected here, but we must not be caught unprepared and we understand the Lanteans are in possession of many wondrous medicines. I am asking you, my friend, if you would speak to them about granting some to my people."

Halling and Jinto glanced at each other and after a moment, Halling replied, "Padrel, the Lanteans are generous, but I cannot guarantee they will consent."

"You are an honest man, and acting in Teyla's name, I am satisfied you will keep your word and speak for us. Whatever the Lanteans decide, our business will be done," Padrel stated.

The Athosians were stymied. It all seemed too good to be true, but the Elder had never lied to them. His fear of this plague must be great, if he was willing to let the seed go with no guarantees at all. "I believe we have reached an accord, Padrel. The Athosian people will speak for you."

"Excellent!" Padrel beamed. "Now, all that remains is the signing of the contracts."

Halling sighed. He should have suspected that even with the seeds being gifted to them, there would be many papers to be signed. The trio left the seed in the store for the time being. When everything was signed, Halling and Jinto would be issued a voucher and they would be permitted to return and retrieve what they needed.

* * *

Dr. Keller pored over the stack of files and textbooks on her desk. She had been at it for hours already, and the sun was only now starting to light up the city. Her computer was running a search through the portion of the Ancient's medical database that the linguists had been able to decipher. Unfortunately, it was only a small portion. Impeding their progress were some symbols that they had no reference for and, therefore, no translation. Mostly, though, it was the sheer size of the database. It would take a long time before all the secrets of the Ancient were at their fingertips. In the meantime, they had to do continue to do things on their own.

She had contacted Carson about Capshaw's relapse and he was due back anytime. She would never admit it to Mason, but she was running out of ideas and she needed Beckett's input if she was going to come up with something. Until she could figure out the next phase of treatment, she was having to give him much larger doses of meds than would normally be recommended. Overdosing was a risk, but it was needed just to keep him reasonably comfortable. As a result, she was having to keep close tabs on him. She had managed to talk him down from his 'doom and gloom' mentality, but he was pretty upset she was having to check up on him so much to make sure his body didn't shut down entirely.

She grew frustrated with a lock of her hair. It kept moving into precisely the wrong place to block her vision while she worked. She heaved a sigh and, putting her pencil between her teeth, opened up the drawer on her right, looking for something to tie it back with. Her fingers were halfway through twisting things into place, when she heard a familiar voice.

"Hello, luv."

Surprised and thrilled to hear the lilt of his accent, Jennifer smiled and lifted her head, bringing the right side of her face into full view. "Carson!"

"Dear Lord! What happened to you?" the Scot asked with his eyes wide.

She almost forgot. She tried to fool herself into thinking her make-up was covering the dark marks across her jaw and cheek, but it really wasn't helping much at this stage. Maybe in a few more days, but, at this point, she may as well have waved a flag that said, "Ronon was here."

"It's a long story, Carson."

Dr. Beckett came around and sat on the corner of her desk, right next to her, and folded his arms across his chest. "Then, start talking, lass. I have a sneaking suspicion that I've missed a lot."

Jennifer began with telling him about the Athosians leaving the city, Teyla's simultaneous departure, and the rumors going around that her leaving wasn't just a coincidence of timing. The talk was that she and the colonel had split up, to which Carson was skeptical.

"Nobody who ever saw those two together could believe that," he said. "Not to mention, they've got that wee baby on the way. Don't you go listening to that nonsense," he advised her.

Jennifer grinned and hoped he was right, but she'd seen Sheppard and she had her doubts. She moved on to Richard Woolsey and how things had changed under the new management. Then, she briefly touched on McKay and Katie Brown getting back together and Mason, before she started the explanation of her face.

She didn't get very far, though, when she glanced past Carson into the main part of the infirmary. Ronon walked in with Lt. Garrity, who had a trickle of blood dripping from his brow. She dove under her desk, sending her chair sliding backward and Beckett looking incredibly bewildered.

"Uh...Jennifer?" Carson asked.

"Shhh!" she said. She continued in a whisper, tempted to laugh at his amused expression, but was tempered by the situation. "Would you mind taking care of them? It's probably best that I stay here until they're gone."

"Under the desk?"

"Yes, Carson. Under the desk."

Beckett turned to see Ronon searching the room like hawk searches for its prey. The intensity written on his battle-hardened features spelled things out for him. "I take it, that nasty bruise you're sporting is courtesy of our friend, Ronon?"

"Yes," Jennifer answered, "but it was an accident."

"From the looks of it, you were lucky he didn't accidentally break your jaw."

"Carson, please. I'll explain. I promise. Could you, please, just take care of them?" she pleaded.

"Alright, luv. I'd do anything for you, I suppose," he said.

"Thank you," she breathed as he stepped out of the office.

* * *

Five months in these quarters and the only thing he'd ever made in it was coffee. Soon after they moved in, Teyla made a few attempts to christen the kitchen, but they soon abandoned the cooking idea. It wasn't for a lack of ability, on his part anyway, or a desire to, on hers. He was usually too busy to plan something and get ingredients from the mess hall and whip something up and it wasn't long before Teyla couldn't stomach the sight or smell of food in general. The only exception was blue jell-o and that alone made the trip to the mess three times a day worth it.

He woke up that morning like he had every morning since she was gone. Stiff, groaning, and not rested at all, he rolled off the couch and onto his knees. He'd yawn and stretch, trying to work out the kinks, and eventually his eyes would open. Then, there was the usual avoidance of looking at anything reminding him of the woman he loved, while he showered and got cleaned up. He tried to tell himself that it helped. But, it didn't. Not a bit.

Once he got his uniform on, he ambled back into the kitchen to start the coffee. While he waited for that to get going, he grabbed his laptop and went through his inbox. There was the usual messages from different department heads. The new psychologist was sending through another request that all military personnel make routine visits. Like that was gonna happen. McKay sent in one, demanding that Sgt. Haggerty be reassigned back to Earth for "being stupid enough to touch an experiment while it was running." _Hmmm._ Rodney was probably over-reacting a tad, but he would have to have a talk with Haggerty.

To his surprise, there were even a few messages from Earth. Yesterday was the scheduled update from the SGC. He'd forgotten. He read down the handful of names. General Landry. Cam. Carter had dropped him a line from the Hammond by way of Cheyenne Mountain. There was a message from a lawyer, who was growing increasingly demanding that he sign transfer of ownership papers on the properties his dad left him. Apparently, this guy hadn't gotten the memo that he was out of town. Then, there was Dave. They'd been writing back and forth fairly regularly, but in the last few months, things had dried up.

_I've been spending a lot of time on a new project. It takes me away a lot. I spend most of my time in D.C., these days. The company's in good hands. Shelley's taken over the reins and is doing my job better than I did. I can't help myself sometimes, though. I still look over her shoulder more often than she'd probably like. _

John got up and poured himself a cup of coffee. With careful sips, he read on.

_I'll have to get you my new contact information as soon as I find myself an apartment out here, just in case you ever decide to come for a visit._

Since John returned from Earth, Dave hadn't mentioned a word about the big secret and he didn't really know what to make of it. Dave had stubbornly refused to quit asking questions about his life and his career despite his repeated refusal to answer. He'd finally caved and left him a clue, but either Dave was in denial, he just didn't get it, or he was smart enough not to mention it on monitored channels. John didn't have any idea what was going on in his head.

_I got your list. The ring—I think I can manage, but the baby stuff? It should've probably come __with pictures and a diagram and a sherpa. I don't know a thing about what constitutes a good crib from a bad one! And there's apparently a hundred different sizes of diapers and there's a window for every size. You go beyond the window and...I don't know what happens, but it's bad. Seriously, John. I get that you and Teyla are a little far away from a mall, but me? Take my advice. Get your ass back here and take her shopping! First baby or not, women have a natural instinct for this stuff that I DO NOT possess. _

John looked across his quarters. There was a bedroom just off the kitchen that had no purpose yet. He and Teyla had tossed around a few ideas, but they were stuck somewhere between man cave and meditation room. On the other side of the living room was the master, where John and Teyla were and the third room was right next to it. Without realizing he'd done it, the light in the smaller room lit up, but when he tried to shut it off, he couldn't seem to do it.

_Traitor_, he thought. Not even the city itself was gonna leave him alone.

He walked to the baby's room to do it the old fashioned way. There wasn't much in it, yet, but Teyla had a several blankets folded up neatly in a corner and there was a box full of toys, all of them made by the Athosians prior to their departure. He crouched down and pulled one off the top. It was a tiny model of a jumper, carved from a block of wood. John could tell it was done by one of the kids, but it was actually really good.

It had taken him a while to get used to the idea of being a dad. The diapers and the crying he'd figure out when he had to, but mostly he wrestled with the issue of balancing his career and raising a kid. He didn't want to be an absentee father. He had one of those and he didn't want his kid to have to know that kind of childhood. He didn't want to miss anything.

With the little, wooden jumper in his hand, John sank to his knees. His chest tightened and his throat started to close. He could feel the sting of tears starting to surface and he tried to choke them back. He was already failing his son or his daughter. He wasn't fast enough to save Teyla from that fall and it could have cost both of their lives. Then, he'd driven Teyla away. He should have gone after her immediately, but he was too upset and, in that state, he'd already managed to do enough damage. _Ronon was right_. He was a coward. He stayed where he was, separated from the woman he loved more than anything and the child they'd made together, because he was too afraid that she wouldn't want him anymore. He realized that the baby wasn't even born yet, but he or she deserved a better man for a father—someone who would fight for them, not back off because things were too hard.

"Colonel Sheppard?"

It took him a few seconds to put his pent up emotions back in the box where he'd been trying to keep them hidden and get the frog out of his throat long enough to answer Dr. Beckett on the comms.

"Carson? When did you get back?" he asked, his voice still not cooperating.

"Just now, Colonel. We need to have a little talk about Ronon."

John gently set the toy jumper back in the box and rose to his feet. "I'll be right down."

* * *

If the padded dummy in the gym could talk, it would have been screaming for mercy and it's pleas would have fallen on deaf ears. With Tyre's sword in hand, singing as it ripped through the air, Ronon ferociously attacked the phantom wraith in front of him. John watched unnoticed from the doorway, while his best friend worked himself in a lather, striking back at his enemies in the only way he could. He used every move he'd ever learned, whether from his Satedan battle training or from his years of running, to deal the dummy what would have been death blow after death blow.

Sweat pouring off his brow and the rage inside only increasing, Ronon gave a primal howl and drove the sword straight through the dummy's heart. John thought that might call an end to the bestial assault, but Ronon pulled the weapon and swung one more time. The stuffed head and the fluff inside sprayed the room as it flew toward the colonel's position.

It was only then, with his chest heaving, that Ronon made eye contact with John.

"I think it's dead."

"Go away, Sheppard," Ronon growled.

"Can't. See, I've been getting reports of a crazy man loose in Atlantis and I was hoping you could help me track him down," John answered him with a wry tone.

"Funny," Ronon said, not appreciating the joke.

John bent over and picked up the unfortunate head and tossed it to Ronon. "Keller tells me you've been sending a lot of bodies her way. Beckett just finished patching up the last one. I think you've blown your allotted number of sparring accidents for the month already and it's only been a few days. You may want to pace yourself."

"What do you want?"

"I'm just trying to figure out if I've got any men left," he said.

Ronon gave it some thought before replying, "Lorne. And Capshaw hasn't shown his face in here, yet."

"Two..." John said with smirk. "Can't wait to tell Woolsey Atlantis is being guarded by two good men."

"Four," Ronon corrected him. "I haven't gotten a hold of you yet either, and you're probably worth two."

"In that case, I suppose that makes the count fifteen," John said, taking the compliment and handing it right back. "There's you, and I figure you're worth, at least, another ten. Fifteen doesn't sound so bad. I can work with that."

They were able to laugh a little, but when the smiles died, silence fell over them. The loudest silence either of them had ever heard, laced with the scent of guilt, grief, and perceived betrayal. "Sheppard...," Ronon started.

"We're good, Ronon," the colonel assured him. "You don't have anything to be sorry about."

Ronon screwed his jaw. He couldn't have disagreed more. "How's Keller?"

"You haven't, uh,...?"

"No."

Understanding the Satedan's reluctance to face the young doctor perfectly, John said, "She's fine, pal. No real harm done."

Ronon didn't buy John's assurances at all. He remembered every wretched second of his torture and the events that followed. He recalled opening his eyes from the stun blast to realize he was about to be trapped in those restraints, and he knew exactly how hard he had hit her. It was a blow that would have brought down a man three times her size. There was no way she came out of it untouched and unaffected.

It wasn't as though he'd never raised his hand to a female. Ronon had fought women before. Teyla, Ara, and countless others—all warriors, capable of giving as good as they got, who wouldn't hesitate to strike back. But, the sweet-tempered doctor was a different breed. When she came to Atlantis, he had falsely assumed she was weak from her soft-hearted and naïve manner. She had a strength in her that continually surprised him, but she wasn't made for combat. She used her strengths to help others whenever and however she could and she didn't deserve the vicious attack he'd given her.

"Here," John said to him. While Ronon was distracted, he had fished out the bantos rods from his gym bag. John threw him a set and took a couple for himself. "Let's see if we can't whittle down those numbers a bit more. Atlantis is pretty well protected. We've got a ZPM, the shield, and the drones...fifteen's probably on the excessive side."

Ronon actually managed a half-smile. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

John shrugged. He took up a position in the center of the room and casually swung the weapons, loosening up his arms . "I'm willing to give it a shot. Maybe, you're right. This is the better way to go, hiding out in the gym and avoiding having to look anyone in the eye."

"You aren't in any position to talk to me about looking people in the eye."

"Fair enough," John granted him. "I win—you stop taking apart the U.S. military single-handed and have a talk with Keller. You win—I'll get in a jumper and go see Teyla. Deal?"

Ronon nodded and squared himself opposite the colonel, preparing for a fight.

As he raised his weapons and braced himself, John looked as serious as Ronon felt. "Just remember. This is what it feels like to kick somebody's ass and mean it. What happened to you wasn't your fault and you didn't mean to hurt the doc. She knows that."

"You done?"

"You do realize that when you're done with me, your gonna have to take me to the infirmary anyway, right?" John added, seeing some the bloodlust rising in Ronon's eyes.

"Yep," the Satedan mumbled. "Are you ready or not?"

John took a deep breath. "Ready."

* * *

"Mr. Woolsey, we have an unscheduled contact," Chuck said from his console in the gateroom.

"Raise the shield," he ordered.

"Done."

Richard was still relatively new to the job of commanding the Atlantis expedition and was still getting used to this side of the job, taking on unexpected and potentially dangerous situations. He earned his position because the IOA thought he was eminently qualified as an administrator and political negotiator. The fact that they thought he would toe the party line was merely a bonus.

Never able to be sure what was coming through the gate, he wondered what hazard they would face today. Was it the first sign of an invasion? Would they forced into battle? Lives could be lost, but they had to protect the city at all costs. How many good men and women would he have to send to their deaths?

"It's the Athosian IDC, sir," Chuck informed him.

"Ah," he said. He yanked on the bottom of his uniform, straightening it up. _We'll save the invasion for another time, then._ "Lower the shield, Chad."

"It's Chuck."

"Yes, yes. Chuck. If you would do the honors?"

The shimmering presence of the shield disappeared and moments later, Halling and Jinto stepped through the event horizon carrying bags that appeared to be both full and heavy.

Carefully placing the bags on the ground, Halling greeted Woolsey as he descended the stairs. "Good day to you, Mr. Woolsey."

"Halling, it's nice to see you again so soon."

"I apologize for coming unannounced. We were trading on Kyson and they made an interesting request of us," Halling explained. "We thought it best to speak with you about it as soon as possible."

Intrigued, but always concerned with protocol, Richard inquired, "You followed the security procedures we discussed?"

Halling nodded. "We traveled through several stargates before arriving here, Mr. Woolsey. We were not followed."

"Excellent," Richard said. "If you'd like, you can leave your belongings here and we can discuss this request in the conference room."


	4. Face Time

**Chapter 4 – Face Time**

"Was that really necessary?" John complained. He was limping toward the transporter under his own power, but every time he put weight on his knee, he was uncomfortably reminded of the rough landing that had twisted it in the first place.

"It's not that bad and you're the one who wanted to go to the infirmary," Ronon told him.

"So you could talk to the doc," the colonel reminded him. "You could have restrained yourself a little."

"You lost and you're still getting what you wanted. Quit whining."

"I'm not whining."

"Keep moving, McKay."

"Now, that was just mean," John said indignantly.

Three days of agonizing withdrawal left Ronon weak and then, he'd spent the next several literally fighting his way back. It shouldn't have been physically possible, but Ronon seemed more tense and keyed up than ever.

"You don't have to go, Ronon," John said, offering him an out.

"It's gotta happen sometime, right?"

"I guess, but it doesn't have to be now. If you need more time..."

"Just walk, Sheppard."

When they got there, Dr. Aileron was the only patient in the room. John assumed he had fallen asleep outside because the scientist bore a strong resemblance to a boiled lobster. He sat uncomfortably straight on the side of the bed, while Dr. Cole handed him a cream and was explaining the hows and whens of the medicine. Her face fell, though, when she saw the two men enter looking like they'd just come through a warzone.

"No, Ronon. Not again!" she exclaimed.

Sheppard assured her, "I'm the last one for a while. He promises. Don't you, Ronon?"

"Whatever," he grunted as he searched his field of vision and craning his neck, for any sign of Jennifer.

"Pinky swear?" Dr. Cole asked the warrior.

"What?"

"Nevermind."

John wasn't having any more luck than Ronon. "Say, uh...where's Keller?"

"She and Dr. Beckett got a call to meet with Mr. Woolsey. I'm happy to take a look, Colonel."

_Great. _He'd taken a beating to get Ronon here and she wasn't even...here. Without another word, Ronon spun around and walked out.

"You know what? It's feeling much better already," Sheppard claimed, following his friend's lead, already inching his way backward toward the doorway.

"Colonel..."

"Really, doc. It'll loosen up," he said with a polite smile, "A couple of ibuprofen and I'll be good to go. Thanks, anyway."

John turned and ran as fast as his knee would allow. Dr. Cole shook her head in his wake, wondering why it was that men who could stare a Wraith in the face and make jokes, had such an aversion to getting a simple wound check.

"Ronon! Wait up!" John called after him. The Satedan wasn't wasting any time. He was moving through the hallways like a man being chased by something other than his slightly impaired best friend. John had to adopt an odd, stilted hop in order to get the speed he needed.

"Don't you have a jumper to catch?" Ronon put to him without slackening his pace.

"Yeah," John answered him. "I just need to run it past Woolsey first and I'm going. Ronon...can you slow down? I'm not firing on all cylinders right now."

He came to a halt and Sheppard asked him concerned, "Are you gonna be okay?"

Ronon pursed his lips and looked like he wanted to say something else, but all that came out was, "Give my love to Teyla."

* * *

John was already on his way to the tower when Mr. Woolsey called. He wanted him and the rest of his team to come to the conference room for a debriefing. He was sorely tempted to tell the man to shove his meeting where the sun didn't shine. His team was off rotation, taking the time they all sorely needed and had coming to them. With Capshaw's permission, Keller had informed him of his current condition, putting Mason on the questionable list. Ronon was right there with him, still in recovery from his ordeal, and McKay...well, McKay was always questionable, but in a very different way. And as for himself, he had somewhere he needed to be. But, as always, his sense of duty got the better of him and he decided to, at least, hear Woolsey out before he shot him down.

A few minutes later, John, with the rest of his team not far behind, walked through the slatted, metal doorways of the conference room and he promptly froze. Keller and Beckett were already there, sitting around the large table next to Halling and Jinto. His heart sped up and he fought the overwhelming urge to jump to conclusions. It wasn't until Halling smiled at him and Jinto rushed to greet him, he was able to shake off the fears creeping in. It wasn't bad news. He recovered in time to return some of the teenager's enthusiasm.

"Halling," he started, shaking his hand and not really knowing what to say.

"Colonel," the Athosian answered. Then, seeming to reading his mind, added, "Teyla is well."

John nodded, appreciating the confirmation, and said in a voice so low that he could barely hear himself, "Thank you."

To his side, Keller instantly leaned on her elbows and sent her hand to rest over her cheek. All of a sudden, she appeared to be entirely engrossed in Woolsey's chatter. John wasn't really sure why the theatrics, until he caught sight of Ronon. The warrior's dark eyes were picking her apart.

_Easy, Chewie._

John, as subtly as he could manage, smacked Ronon, and told him to sit. Mason gave Jinto a quick fist bump and a pat on the back, before taking his seat in between Jennifer and Rodney. Not wanting to prolong the agony, John figured he'd get the ball rolling while the last of them sat down. "I'm guessing you didn't bring us here to talk about the new menu for the mess hall."

"A topic well worth discussing, by the way," McKay pointed out.

"Next time, Dr. McKay," Richard told him. "I assure you, we will get a list put together for the IOA's approval before the Daedalus' return trip. The reason I called you all here, is that a request for medical supplies has been made by one of the Athosians trading partners. The, uh..." he bent over to double-check his notes, "...Kysonians."

Halling informed the group of the bargain that had been struck—the medicine in exchange for crop seeds that Athosian's needed.

"What kind of medicine?" John asked.

Jennifer fielded the question. "Vaccinations, antibiotics, that sort of thing. Pretty standard stuff."

"It's precisely the same sort of thing I do in my clinics," Carson said.

"Which is why," Woolsey came in, "I don't see any reason why we should refuse."

"So, we're delivery boys now," Rodney snarked.

"What Rodney means to say," John interrupted and directed the next word to the doctor, "_politely_, is that my team is on stand-down at the moment, but if it's for the Athosians, I'm sure we would _all_," again he glared at Rodney, "be willing to help out."

"That's not what I meant to say, at all."

"Yes, it is," John said with a threatening smile.

"Fine." McKay turned back to Halling and added dryly, "We're thrilled."

"Glad to hear it, Dr. McKay," Mr. Woolsey said. "Dr. Keller will be accompanying you to help the Kysonian healers get up to speed and set up, and Halling and Jinto will be along to expedite the paperwork."

"Paperwork?" Mason asked.

Halling told him, "The Kysonians are a very...fastidious people when it comes to transactions. I am hopeful that my presence will help us to avoid any legal entanglements."

"Sounds scary," Mason mumbled.

Halling chuckled. "Not remotely. They are good people."

Richard and Halling went on to explain to them the rumors of plague that had sparked the Kysonian interest in the medicine in the first place and their directive to gather what intel they could while they dropped off the cargo. If Rodney was less than enthusiastic about the mission before, the mention of the word 'plague' nearly sent him into a full-scale rebellion.

"The Kysonians don't have the plague, Rodney," Carson placated him. "They just want to be prepared."

"I don't see you going along on this trip!"

"Somebody's got to hold down the fort here and I've been gone a long while," the doctor answered. "There's work ta be done and it's high time I get caught up, don't ya think?"

"Is that it?" Ronon growled from his end of the table. Everyone turned to look at him. It was the first time he'd opened his mouth or taken his eyes away from Dr. Keller the entire meeting. It was obvious he had lost all patience for McKay's histrionics and everything else.

Richard continued, with an extra pinch of caution in his voice, wary of Ronon's fraying temper. "When you've finished on Kyson, you'll be escorting Halling and Jinto to the Athosian camp."

Halling told them, "In gratitude for your assistance in this matter, I would like to extend an invitation for all of you to spend the remainder of your rest days with our people." The tall Athosian looked at the colonel, but addressed the entire group. "You would be most welcome."

John tilted his head slightly to the side, astounded. One of the most polite men he'd ever met was twisting his arm. Not that it needed twisting.

Richard agreed. "Having gone over all your recent reports, I realize that it's been a while for all of you and I think it would do you all some good to spend some leisure time outside the base."

"Any objections?" John asked his team. Not even McKay, the dissenter, said a word. His team and the two doctors just stared pointedly back at him. _Everybody's a critic_.

"That settles it, then," he said. "Let's get going, people."

* * *

Jennifer could feel him behind her long before she heard his footsteps. The way he was staring her down in the meeting made her feel like she was being separated from the herd and the hunt was on.

She had left the conference room without any fanfare and took her time moving through the hallways. She wasn't going to make it hard on him. Avoiding him was pointless now that they were going off-world together and would probably do more harm than good. If he was ready to talk about it and she stayed away, he might get the impression she was angry with him. Or scared of him. Which, if she was being honest with herself, he did a little. Not because of what happened, but just by being who he was.

"Doc," he said. She felt his hand covering her shoulder. His grasp was firm, but he left her some wiggle room. If she was of a mind to, she could have pulled away from him and he would have yielded to what she wanted.

She gradually turned around, revealing the full extent of the damage to him. When she saw the hurt in his eyes, she wished she knew what to say to make it better. She wasn't used to seeing him so vulnerable. "Ronon, it's not so bad. Really. It'll be gone before you know it."

The Satedan didn't say anything. He stepped toward her and cupped her jaw with his hand. He moved in so close, she could feel his breath on her cheek as his thumb ran carefully over her bruised cheek. He inspected his handiwork with tenderness in his big, calloused hands and disgust in his heart. The close scrutiny left her heart pounding and with a sense of being very...naked.

"I'm sorry," his gravel-laden voice said with a heart-wrenching break.

"Ronon, you don't need to..."

"Yes, I do," he stated. "Yes, I do."

His eyes ran over her open, guileless, and beautiful features that his actions had marred. "I'm gonna make this up to you. I swear it."

She reached up and took his hand. Gently pushing it down, she told him, "It's alright, Ronon. It's over. You don't owe me anything."

He moved his unwavering examination of her face to study the floor with an unnatural intensity.

She hated feeling so helpless to make a difference, but nothing she could say would help. He was going to have to work through this on his own.

"Ronon...I need to, um..." she tried.

"Right. The medical supplies," he responded.

"Yeah...medical supplies," she muttered, trying to figure how to breathe again. "I'll see you at the jumper later?"

He nodded.

"Okay."

* * *

"And then, that rotten man had the gall to say..." Jol ranted while she stirred the pots she had on the grate above the open fire. "...Your water is boiling, by the way, dear," she mentioned before continuing her tirade. "...that the goat's milk would turn sour because the female had eaten too much. Can you believe such nonsense?"

Teyla was sitting nearby, shucking some corn the Athosians brought with them from Atlantis. She had a pile of them ready and she quickly slid them into the scalding water. She returned to cleansing the remaining ears of their leaves and the stringy bits that were so hard to completely remove. "Why do you and Feylon continue with these constant arguments? Surely you must grow weary of it from time to time," she inquired when Jol stopped for air.

Jol held out a spoon with a tiny bit of broth in it. "Taste that. Too salty?"

"It tastes perfect to me," she responded.

"Because, Teyla, it keeps things interesting," Jol told her, answering her question. "How many times can one discuss the weather or crops or hunting? I'll give that old man one thing. He is never dull."

"She is right. It's a pity, though, I cannot return the compliment," Feylon said as he meandered toward the campfire.

"I am not feeding you anymore, Feylon," Jol stated. "If you wish to eat, you must learn to cook for yourself or die trying."

"It is fortunate for me, then, I learned to cook long before you swung your first pot, my friend," Feylon said. "Teyla, I came to tell you that we've received a communication from Atlantis."

Teyla sat up straighter in her seat, listening to him. "Halling and Jinto are with the Lanteans. It seems they intend to return to Kyson shortly to complete the trade and then, they will return."

"I see," Teyla said. She couldn't deny the bitter disappointment in her heart. She would never have believe John capable of staying away for so long. She felt like she perhaps she didn't know him as well she as believed.

"Jol, you will have several extra mouths to feed for the next few days, for they are bringing along guests," Feylon told her, seeing a scowl forming on his leader's face. "Dr. Keller will be here and she has the intention of checking on her smallest patient. She will also be accompanied by Colonel Sheppard and his team."

"Oh, my," Jol breathed. "I may need to make arrangements. If my memory serves me, those boys have healthy appetites."

"Yes," Teyla said quietly, lost in her own thoughts.

Feylon had hoped the news of the arrival of Teyla's chosen would erase the burden she'd been carrying since they left the city of the Ancestors. But, it hadn't helped. If anything, Teyla seemed more distressed.

* * *

Halling wasn't kidding about the paperwork. Soon after arriving, they were met by Padrel, a man that reminded John very much of Santa Claus. They were given the rundown on the specifics of Kysonian trading practices before they left and they weren't exaggerated. Since the original deal was negotiated with the Athosians, Halling was permitted to sign the stack of papers involving transfer of ownership. John's right hand started to ache in sympathy for Halling after the twentieth signature.

During the hours that followed, John and his team started discreetly asking questions about this mysterious plague, while Jennifer got the cargo squared away. No one seemed to know any more than what they'd already been told. Plague. Lots of people dying, but no one had any firsthand knowledge or any facts they could pursue.

The colonel kept checking his watch and grew more anxious with every tick of the hands on the clock. He didn't know what lay ahead for him, but he knew that it was long past time he found out.

* * *

The jumper sailed through the stargate like it had a thousand times before and it sped over the miles of heavy forest between the gate and the camp.

"You walked all that way?" Rodney asked Halling. "How long did it take?"

"At an easy pace, it is two days journey to the camp. Jinto and I were able to move quickly, though, and covered it in one. It is one of the benefits of moving in small numbers," Halling informed him.

"Well, we're gonna be there in a few minutes," John called back to the rear.

Outside the window, the forest soon cleared and John lowered the puddlejumper's altitude to skim smoothly along the ground until they reached a safe distance from the camp. With the jumper on the ground, he lowered the rear hatch and shut down the Ancient systems. Halling and Jinto were the first off. They were eager to get the seed to its proper place. It would need to planted soon, if they were to get it done before the first frosts began.

The rest of them stood just outside and took in the sights. They couldn't knock the Athosians work ethics, that was for sure. In three weeks, they'd turned an empty strip of ground into a home. There was still a lot to be done. Construction had already begun on several permanent structures to be used during the winter as shelter when the temperatures inside their tents would be insufficient. They would need to hurry to finish them in time. And there were piping plans, complete with water heaters from the city, that yet to be put into action. But overall, the Athosians were well on their way.

With the landing of the jumper, activity around the camp ceased as everyone's attention shifted to their guests. John spotted Teyla right away. She could have been in the middle of a crowd of hundreds and he would have known it was her. Her copper-colored hair blew loose in the breeze and she raised her hand to swipe a loose strand out of her eyes. She was carrying a small box to an older man and smiled as she handed it off to him.

It was probably the murmurs of the people around her that drew her attention, but she turned to see the jumper and she stood still.

John squinted in the bright sunlight and put his hand up to his brow for shade and grimaced. He nudged Rodney, who stood next to him and asked him, "Is it my imagination, or does she look...?"

"Bigger?" the scientist guessed when John didn't finish.

Sheppard looked at the baby bump he hadn't seen in so long. McKay was right. She was bigger. He could tell even from this distance, which was starting to close because she was walking toward them. When she'd left, her stomach was about the size of a cantaloupe. Now, it looked more like a soccer ball.

"Yeah," he agreed, "but, I was actually gonna go with 'upset'."

"Yep," Ronon answered.

John sighed. He'd known this wasn't going to be easy, but knowing and seeing were two different things. He could see how tense she was and it didn't bode well for him. "Any suggestions?" he asked the peanut gallery.

From Rodney, he got, "Turn around and go home."

"Duck and cover" was from Ronon.

And Mason left with him the gem of "Wear a cup."

"Thanks, guys. That's very helpful," John said sarcastically.

From the far side of the pack, Jennifer, the lone feminine voice said, "You could try having an open and honest conversation with her."

John's friends looked at her like the suggestion was the most ridiculous one of them all.

"Oh! I know!" Rodney snapped into life. "Grovelling! It works!"

John, Ronon, and Mason all looked back to Jennifer. She said, "Okay, McKay's got a point there."

"Right," he said. He took a breath and headed down the ramp to meet Teyla.

"Uh, guys?" Mason said from behind him.

"What is it?"

John turned to his right where Capshaw was pointing. "You may want to brace yourselves. We're about to come under attack."

Approaching at rapid speeds, was a very enthusiastic and roudy group of kids.


	5. New Beginnings

**Chapter 5 – New Beginnings**

It wasn't exactly a clash of the titans, but before he knew it, Ronon had two kids wrapped around his legs and hanging on for dear life. Amid a sea of laughter, the other children took advantage of his seeming inability to properly move and teamed up to try and bring the big man down. With kids hanging from every limb and around his torso, Ronon shouted with a barely hidden grin, to his amused teammates, "A little help here!"

"Sorry, buddy," John called, intercepting some enthusiastic hugs of his own. "You're on your own."

Rodney was taking cover behind Jennifer, trying to avoid the onslaught, while Jennifer laughed at Ronon's predicament. She hadn't seen him smile like that in a long time. It was hard to imagine, but she had nearly forgotten how striking he was when his eyes lit up like that.

The kids bore down on him, and the Satedan started to wobble. To the kids, it was a goal on par with conquering Everest. When Ronon finally caved under the pressure and tumbled awkwardly to the ground, careful to avoid pinning little limbs along the way, a loud cheer erupted from the mob and six kids dog-piled on top.

"Masy! Masy!"

Sgt. Capshaw heard her tiny voice through the din and reached his hands out to pick up the little girl it belonged to. Pulling the five-year-old up with a swing, he said, "Say! I'm looking for someone. Maybe you know her?"

"Who?" she asked with honest curiosity.

"Well, she looks a lot like you. Pretty, dark hair, green eyes. She's about your age, but she's a little shorter than you. Her name's Setisse. Have you seen her?"

"Masy..." the girl said, "It's me. Can't you tell?"

Mason gave Setisse a big grin. "I thought that was you, but I wasn't sure. You've gotten so big."

"Well, yeah. I grew," she explained.

He nodded. "Good to know. I'll remember that next time. I promise."

From his position behind the doctor, Rodney said, "Masy?"

"Meredith." Capshaw tossed back at him. He wasn't about to be mocked over a nickname when the scientist had a less-than-masculine moniker of his own.

John managed to extricate himself by telling the kids to go tackle Ronon before he could get back up. Teyla had stopped to watch the show just like every other adult in the vicinity. With her attention on other things, he took the few seconds he had to admire her, while he could. He doubted it would be long before reality sank in and the wide smile she wore would fade again.

It was such a cliché, but she was glowing. Maybe, it was just his joy at setting eyes on her again coloring his vision. Maybe, it was her happiness at being at one with her people again, without having Atlantis splitting her focus. Maybe, it was her impending motherhood, although John couldn't recall any of the pregnant women he'd ever seen looking like Teyla did. He was sorely tempted to rip her dress off and take hours exploring her feminine curves that were in full bloom. He allowed for the possibility he wasn't seeing things clearly where she was concerned. He loved her beyond any measure and it was his baby she was carrying. But, Teyla was exceptional and he thought anybody with eyes would see her exactly as he did.

As he feared, the moment passed too quickly before she locked her gaze on him again and her smile disappeared. She closed the small distance that remained between her and the jumper. Teyla shooed the children away, promising them there would be time to play later. While Ronon picked himself up and dusted off, Teyla welcomed her friends. John couldn't pretend that it didn't sting when she didn't speak to him.

"It is good to see you all again. I have missed you," she told them. Jennifer caught her up in a warm embrace.

"You're looking so good!" Dr. Keller squealed.

When the doctor released her grip, Teyla asked them how long they could stay.

"A few days," John said. He could have let someone else field the question, but he had to say something, if only to break the ice between them. "We've got some down time, so..."

"I see." Her response was polite, but cold. She addressed the rest of the group, "We have plenty of room."

"We brought our own tents," Ronon told her.

John finished, "We didn't want to put anybody out."

"Feel free to set up your tents anywhere you like," she said to him, the strain in her voice increasing.

The colonel wasn't going to be able to stick to the small talk much longer with the air ripe with tension as it was. It didn't look like Teyla wanted to either, so he took charge. "Capshaw, you and Ronon get started with the tents. Just right over there'll do," he said pointing to the empty space between the large building still under construction and the jumper. "It's not far from the fire and we'll be able to keep on eye on the jumper, so none of these kids can sneak past us and take her for a joyride."

McKay scoffed, but before he could point out the obvious reasons why that couldn't happen, Sheppard said, "McKay, give the doc a hand with her equipment. Just set it up wherever she wants it, got it?"

Jennifer, knowing they were spending a few days with the Athosians, didn't want to be caught unprepared for anything. It didn't stop with allergy and cold medicine, either. She had her emergency kit, an ultrasound machine and other pregnancy-related paraphernalia, and a mini pharmaceutical lab to keep Mason supplied and run blood tests. Basically, she was ready for the apocalypse in a travel size package, because she knew that traveling off-world for any length of time meant potential for trouble. For Rodney, her over-packing meant a lot of heavy lifting.

"What are you gonna be doing?" McKay asked and then went, "Ow!", when Jennifer pinched his arm.

"Let's go, Rodney," the doctor told him.

With the team making themselves scarce, John and Teyla were alone for the first time in nearly month. Although he knew what was in his heart, he had no idea what to say, so he asked her if she wanted to take a walk. It was probably better that they take this somewhere more private anyway, if he was reading her correctly.

They slowly moved away from the camp, in the general direction of the gate. It was windy. The thick layer of leaves on the ground rattled with each step they took, creating enough noise to fill in the silence between them. He thought about reaching out and taking her hand in his, but was afraid she'd snatch it away, so he left it alone. They walked for several minutes before he got up the courage to ask the simple question, "How are you?"

"I am fine, John." It was terse and unwelcoming.

"Teyla..." he started. This was not going to be easy.

"John, don't," she cut him off, stopping in her tracks. He was already a few paces away when he realized that she wasn't with him anymore. "Can I assume since you have brought Dr. Keller, that you won't be dragging me back to Atlantis whether I am willing or not?"

_Okay. She isn't gonna be pulling any punches._ "Teyla, the things I said...I didn't mean..."

"What, John? You didn't mean what?" she said raising her voice. "Tell me! Say it again. Tell me exactly what it was you didn't mean!"

She waited for him to repeat what he had said to her in anger. When he refused, she decided to fill in the blanks, as harshly as she could without completely losing her composure. "That I was being irresponsible? Reckless! By helping my people, I was risking the life of our child? Which is it?"

While he was still smarting from the hurtful reminder of his mistakes, she told him, "Don't you dare think for one second, John Sheppard, that you care more about this child's safety than I do! I would never put our baby in harm's way!"

"Teyla, I know that! I'm sorry. I can't tell you how sorry I am," he interjected. "I didn't mean it and I wish, to God, I could take it all back, but I can't!"

She marched up to him and questioned him, feeling her control slipping amid the roiling emotions in her chest. "Where were you, John? Where have you been? Do you have any idea how long I have been waiting for you to show up?"

He knew the exact answer, down to the last second. "Yes, I do."

"I needed you," she told him.

"Teyla, I..." John felt his throat catch and he couldn't find the words he needed. He hated himself for not following her that first day. He wanted to fix this, but if he couldn't forgive himself, how could he expect her to?

Her eyes began to glisten. She said, "If it is so hard for you to be here, John, you should go."

"What?" he exclaimed. "Teyla...!"

"You did not come here for me or your child. You are only here because Halling brought you here. You would still be in Atlantis if it were not for..."

He shook his head, furiously, at the accusation. "No! That's not true! I was coming, I swear to you!"

"After all this time, without a word?"

"Teyla, this wasn't easy for me," he said. "How was I supposed to face you after what happened?"

She glared at him at tears in her eyes. "You are supposed to be the man I love. Someone who I can walk beside through the hard times, not someone who abandons me and his child when things are not easy!"

She started walking toward the camp without him. He caught up with her quickly and grabbed her by the arm. He said, quietly begging, "Teyla, please. Don't walk away. You have no idea..." He had to convince her. If he lost her, he might survive it, but it would only be in the technical sense. He wouldn't come through it and be the same man ever again. "I don't know who I am anymore without you. I'm not really sure when it happened, but nothing about my life makes any sense with you gone. Please, Teyla...don't go."

With a tear streaming down her cheek, he could see the conflict in her eyes. She still loved him, too. He was sure of it, but the hurt and the disappointment she'd suffered at his hands was so great, John didn't know if their love for each other would be enough to conquer it.

"Let me go," she said softly.

"No."

"John, please."

He didn't know what else to do. He pulled her in close, so his body was resting against hers. He stifled the urge to moan. It had been so long since he felt her weight next to his. He hoped that she was as affected by it as he was, that it would be a more tangible reminder of the connection they shared. He tilted his head down, trembling slightly, and gently brushed his lips along hers. She was tentative, but she accepted the caress and moved with him, in their slow reintroduction to one another. His head swam as he tasted her, testing her. Losing control to his passion for her, he pressed into her, his kiss starting to grow more urgent and needy. It was then, that she stiffened and pulled away.

"I cannot do this, John," she said, breathlessly. "Please..."

"Teyla..."

She spun away and resumed her journey to the campsite.

"Teyla, wait!" he called after her.

Without turning around, she answered him. "I have waited long enough for you, John."

* * *

When Teyla returned alone and wiping tears from her eyes, the die-hard romantic side of Jennifer's nature took a hit. They hadn't been gone for that long, but apparently things couldn't have gone worse. She would talk to Teyla later, but for now, her friend probably wanted space and she was willing to let it be. The doctor continued getting her pint-sized infirmary set up, while the boys were finishing up the first tent. Colonel Sheppard turned up a while later, went inside the jumper, and she could hear things getting tossed around.

Jennifer grabbed Ronon's arm as he passed by and indicated in his direction. Frowning, she said, "Maybe, you should go check on him."

Ronon didn't seem to be a big fan of the idea, but when Jennifer added a small 'please,' he folded like an over-sized card table. He lumbered to the powered-down spacecraft and found John inside, pulling out extra blankets from the lower compartments, where their sleeping bags still sat.

"What are those for?" Ronon asked.

John moved with purpose, keeping his hands busy. "You're gonna need these. It's supposed to be cold the next few nights. Why don't you take a stack of those over to the tents? I think there's some pillows in there, too."

Ronon peered at the stack of blankets. "What about you? What are you gonna do?"

John threw a nod over his shoulder. "I've got a couple."

Sitting in the pilot's seat in a rumpled mess were two blankets. "You're sleeping in the jumper?"

"Yep."

"It didn't go well, I guess?"

John didn't answer.

"What are you gonna do?" the Satedan asked, not talking anymore about the sleeping arrangements.

"I'm not leaving, Chewie," John replied. "I don't care how long it takes. Even if you have to go back to Atlantis without me, I'm not leaving without Teyla."

* * *

There wasn't a lot of daylight left, but as soon as the team finished setting up their digs for the next few days, they threw their hats into helping out. Mason and Ronon wound up playing the part of mules, strapped into old school plows to finish the new field while a group of Athosians began getting the seed out behind them. Col. Sheppard joined the construction effort on the larger community buildings. He found swinging a hammer unexpectedly therapeutic. Rodney had met up with Feylon and, over the piping plans to the river, the two predictably began debating every subject under the sun. Jol grinned from the fire at the two, while Jennifer did what she could to help get the evening meal prepared.

The sun grew low on the horizon and everyone began packing up for the day. Halling was bringing the last load of wooden beams to the new building when one of the leather lines he had surrounding them, snapped. Ronon wasn't far and ran to give him a hand. Together they pulled the individual boards from the bundle and manually walked them all to where they belonged. When they finished, Halling retrieved the broken strap from where it lay in the dirt.

"A clean break," the Athosian declared, studying it. He held it out for Ronon's inspection. The warrior ran it through his hands, bending it and snapping it back straight.

"Too bad. That's good quality," Ronon said. The leather was a rare combination. It was thick enough to lend it strength while maintaining it's malleability simultaneously. It must have been some freak tear in the structure that had caused the fatal break.

"Indeed. I will not be able to replace it easily."

"Do you mind if I hang onto it?" Ronon asked.

"It is yours," Halling replied. "May I ask what you have in mind for it?"

"Not sure, yet. Something," the Satedan told him, thoughtfully.

Ronon took the strap to his tent and gave it a thorough cleaning while he considered his options. It seemed he'd made a decision when Halling saw him again on his way to clean up for dinner. Ronon had pinned one end of the leather to a tree stump and was using one of his razor sharp knives to cut it into long, thin, even strips.

Dinner with the Athosians was a lively one. It wasn't intentional, but one table had turned into a bit of a girls club, while the men kept to their own corners. The children ate their dinners quickly and spent the rest of the mealtime burning off what remained of their nearly boundless energy.

Jennifer listened with rapt interest as a couple of the women asked not-so-subtly about the status of a few of the Lantean men. Apparently, Col. Sheppard was not the only man in the city to catch the eye of an Athosian. She hadn't given it much thought before, but it made sense. There were a lot of great guys in Atlantis and they had just spent several months living together, getting to know each other. And, unfortunately, Michael had seen to it that there weren't many Athosian men or women left to choose from.

Teyla sat and listened to the chit chat with mild interest, but her mind was elsewhere. Jennifer noticed that she kept stealing glances over at a certain colonel, who seemed to be a little out of sorts himself. He would respond when asked a direct question, but for the most part, John kept his mouth as full as possible and thereby, rendered mute. Jennifer felt it her duty, as a friend, to do some discreet meddling.

She scooted closer to Teyla. "We haven't really had a chance to talk. How have you been feeling? Appetite's still good, I see," she said sarcastically, peering at Teyla's mostly untouched plate of food.

Teyla, knowing the doctor would not be accepting the usual 'I'm fine' routine, said, "Ordinarily, yes. I have been doing quite well, Jennifer."

"Something bothering you?" she asked innocently, to which Teyla shot her a withering look.

"I know you mean well, Dr. Keller, but I am...not ready to discuss it."

Jennifer understood and took the statement for what it meant. Leave it alone. She just one more thing to say. "I know you may not want to hear it and he may or may not want to admit it, but he misses you. You miss him, too."

Teyla cast another sidelong look at John, who was busy not listening to something Feylon was saying to him.

"Okay. I'm done. I promise," Jennifer said, throwing her arm around her friend's shoulders and giving her a squeeze.

Setisse ran in from outside, past the girls, and ran to her chosen teddy bear, the big marine. She took his hand, pulling him away from his meal. "Masy! You have to come see! Uly caught a glitterfly!" she squealed and tugged him to his feet. "Hurry!"

Jennifer watched his patient expression as he was led outside and mentioned to Teyla, "What is a glitterfly?"

"It is an insect similar to your...firefly?"

Jennifer gave a nod. "Okay. They're quite the pair, aren't they?"

That brought a much needed smile to Teyla's face. "Yes, indeed. She is quite smitten with him."

"Looks like the feeling's pretty mutual," the doctor mused.

"He was with us when my people were liberated," Teyla explained. "It was a difficult time for everyone. Setisse's mother was among those lost and I believe Sgt. Capshaw found that to be something they had in common. He has been very helpful in her adjustment."

That was a side of him he didn't show very often, but Jennifer had known it was in there, underneath the baggage. It reminded her that she needed to check him again soon, though. He was coming due for another dose of meds. "Teyla, I hate to cut this short, but duty calls," she said.

"Of course."

"We're still on for your ultrasound in the morning, right?"

Teyla said, "Perhaps we could move it to the afternoon? I promised Feylon I would mediate an issue he's been having with Rodney."

"Oh, my," Jennifer said. "That should be fun."

Teyla smiled. "Believe it or not, I find I have been missing the sound of Rodney's voice."

"No!" Jennifer said, shocked. "You're kidding!"

"I'm afraid not," Teyla admitted. With a crooked eyebrow, she added, "I am starting to wonder if it is part of the many unusual cravings I have been having lately."

Jennifer laughed. "Okay. Ultrasound in the afternoon," Jennifer confirmed, "But, don't you go getting stressed out because of McKay."

"I promise."

Dr. Keller saw herself through the crowd and outside to get a look at that glitterfly before she'd have to steal Mason away from his biggest fan.

* * *

"Teyla," Feylon spoke to her from his corner of the room. Surrounded by Ronon, John, and several others, he said, "Come and join us! We have been discussing a feast!"

Having already given up on her dinner, she rose and strolled over to see what he had in mind. She had trouble not getting drawn into John's hazel eyes, which were fixed on her. He was a sight that set her heightened hormones on fire. The way his unkempt hair spilled slightly forward over his brow. The sly grin that could always appear at any moment. The shadow of a beard that was already forming along his jawline. "What sort of feast?"

"No grand affair, simply something to mark the end of the season and, of course, to celebrate the arrival of our friends," Feylon told her. "It would do us all good."

"Some of us more than others," she commented.

"Naturally, Teyla. It is unfortunate that you will not be able to partake of some Ruus wine with the rest of us."

"Have you spoken to Jol about this?" she asked Feylon. "I imagine that you will all want to eat, as well as drink."

Halling, standing near the back of the huddle, said, "We have. She is willing."

"You should have seen it, Teyla," Feylon said animatedly. "It bore shades of the miraculous. She agreed with no argument."

She smiled.

"Ronon, here, has even volunteered to catch us our dinner," Feylon said.

Teyla turned to her large friend. "I haven't been able to go hunting for anything besides Wraith in a while," he said, his rocky voice revealing how tired he was becoming.

"I do not want you to feel obligated, Ronon."

"It'll be fun," he satisfied her.

Reassured he wasn't being taken advantage of, Teyla sighed. "Then, it seems we are having a party."

During the subsequent excited anticipation of the following evening, Teyla slipped away. She intended to return to her tent and meditate for a while before heading to bed. She wanted the time to quiet her emotions and center herself again. She felt thrown and split in two. On one side, her anger and frustration at John ate at her, but on the other...she loved him. She hoped to gain a clearer perspective and not allow her heart to run away with her, one direction or another.

She crossed her arms over her chest, shielding herself from the chilly wind blowing through. It wouldn't be too much longer before the first snow fell. Though it was dark, she padded along through the crunching leaves without any hesitation.

After only a few moments, she heard someone rapidly approaching from behind. She turned and saw John jogging toward her. He had to be getting cold. His t-shirt wasn't much for wind coverage. "John, you should get inside," she warned him.

He came to a stop at her side. "I was hoping I could, at least, walk you home first. If you don't mind..."

"You are not dressed for the weather. You could catch cold," she said.

He seemed surprised that she was genuinely concerned. "Would that bother you?"

"Of course, it would," she said, astonished he could even ask that.

Then, his lips turned up and he told her, "Then, we'd better walk fast, huh?"

He tucked his hands into his pockets and steeled himself against the breeze. They went in silence. With the children now in bed, the wind and the vague noises of people talking inside were the only sounds to be heard. She led him to her tent and invited him inside to warm up before he returned.

Her tent wasn't a large one. It didn't need to be. She didn't have much with her and she learned as a child how to make do with what she had. Other than the blankets on her bed, all she possessed were a few books, given to her by Elizabeth a long time ago and a few photos of her friends. And one of John. He scanned the room. "This is nice, Teyla. Cozy. Stays pretty warm in here," he observed. A shiver ran down his spine.

She didn't bother asking, because she knew him too well. If asked, he would only refuse. So, she pulled one of the blankets off her bed and wrapped it around his shoulders. "It keeps me comfortable. You have warmer clothing, I hope?" she asked him.

"Yeah. I meant to pull on a sweater earlier, but we got so busy, I didn't really need it anymore," John said.

Teyla sat down on the bed and removed her shoes. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, appreciating the sensation of freedom for her aching feet. John watched her take that moment and said softly, "You're so beautiful, Teyla. I don't think I said that earlier, but I wanted you to know that I did notice."

"John..." she started.

He interrupted her. "You're not ready. I know." When she didn't correct him, he knew he was on the right track and he pressed on. "I'm not gonna push you. I know I screwed up, big time."

He knelt down on the floor, beside the bed, to talk to her. "Take whatever time you need to. I'm not going anywhere until you decide what you want me to do."

"But, what about Atlantis?"

"I'm not leaving."

"John, you can't..."

"I mean it," he insisted. "You are the most important thing in my life. I damn near went crazy there without you and I can't go back not knowing you'll be there, too."

"I'll see you in the morning, okay?" He stood back up and lightly set down the blanket on the foot of the bed. He backed away and told her, "I love you, Teyla."

She looked at him and was about to say goodnight, when she got a hard kick in the side. Her hand instinctively flew to her stomach and she gasped.

His brow wrinkled and he asked, "What was that?"

She smiled. He was here. She could finally see the moment come to pass that she wished had happened weeks ago. "That was your child saying goodnight, John."

She didn't know how to describe the expression on his face. "He...she...? The baby's kicking?"

She nodded.

He hesitated where he was. She could see he wanted to reach out and touch her, but he wasn't sure he would be welcome. Teyla stood up and took his hand, carefully placing it in the spot where their child was dancing inside her. Besides feeling his obvious joy in that moment, she took pleasure in feeling his hand on her once again. It left her breathless and she couldn't be certain whether it was his hand or the interior acrobatics going on.

"Oh, Teyla," he whispered, feeling the nudges rise and fall under his fingers. "That's amazing."

"Yes, it is," she agreed with a wide smile.

* * *

Author's Notes: I know it took a long time to get them back in the same room together, but I hope it was worth the wait! Thanks for all your comments so far!


	6. Early in the Morning

Author's Notes: None of you know me personally, but I am a very musically keyed in person. I've played many instruments over the years and things just click better for me when I can find just the right song to inspire me. Every once in a while, a song gets to me so much I feel the need to share it. Take it or ignore it as you will. I guess I've been a Florence + the Machine kick lately, but the Ronon scene at the beginning is very much inspired by the lyrics to "Howl." It is a beautiful song, but there's something inherently wild about it and very Ronon. Especially the last stanza:

If you could only see the beast you've made of me  
I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free  
The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound  
I hunt for you with bloody feet across the hallowed ground

* * *

**Chapter 6 – Early in the Morning**

Before the sun made it's regularly scheduled appearance the next morning, Ronon was already armed with his stunner and a knife, cutting through the fog bank that still hung thick in the air. The chill from the night previous hadn't gone. Ronon could see his breath in the pre-dawn light. Heading into his element, he followed a path parallel to the river. He didn't know this planet yet or the best places to find game, but the need for water is, for the most part, universal.

He knew too well the precise weaknesses to exploit. He'd spent too many years being the prey, always on the run and never knowing when a hunter would get the better of him and it would all end. They'd turned him into little better than a beast. Running across the people of Atlantis saved his life and gave him a purpose again, beyond sheer survival. He was making a difference in the galaxy and taking out as many Wraith as he could was just icing on the cake.

The woods were silent. Not even the birds had crept from their nests, yet. He drifted along quietly until he found the ideal place. Making sure to check the wind direction, he moved through the thick underbrush and crouched down. From this vantage point, nothing would get by him. He got low and still and he waited.

After crouching motionless for an amount of time lost on him, Ronon's primed ears heard the faintest sounds of movement beyond the underbrush. With carefully measured slowness, he twisted his neck toward the noise and laid eyes on his quarry. The unsuspecting animal had no idea he was there before he struck. He draped the deer-like animal over his shoulders. While it wasn't huge, it was big enough to make everyone a good meal with some to spare.

As he began the hike back to the camp, he listened to the hushed sounds of the forest. They had nearly succeeded in breaking him this time. Being captured and tortured again had forced him to stare into the eyes the things he hated most and call them his friends. The Wraith tried to make him a faithful follower to the cause of humanity's destruction. They had tried to make him a victim of their never-ending thirst for power and dominance. Under the lightening sky, Ronon was through having his life shaped by the Wraith. Already a ferocious warrior before his experiences, he was only made more lethal and savage in his time as a runner, but he wouldn't let them turn him into just another animal. He would come out of this stronger, more powerful than before and hunt them to the ends of the universe, but he wasn't going to let them take away the man he was. He was no one's prey and he was more than just another predator.

* * *

Her arms and legs strapped down to a table, Teyla searched her surroundings desperate for some clue as to where she was or how she got there. Wherever it was, it was dark, but somehow familiar. She heard the murmurs of disembodied voices in the shadows, too low and indistinct to place, and a hum behind it all somehow flowing through her. Teyla's heart pounded in fear and inside her womb, her child was kicking up a storm as though sensing her panic. She didn't know what was happening, but she had to break free. Teyla struggled against the bindings holding her captive.

"...natural incompatibility...," a voice asserted itself from the rest. It belonged to a man. A young man by the sound of it.

Around her, the room began to come into focus. She was in a lab. It could have been any of Wraith design, but she had been in this one before. She knew she had. She continued pulling against her restraints, careful to avoid making any sounds that may alert whoever held her here.

"The changes have failed assimilate themselves," the man continued.

"Then, they are of no further use to me."

Teyla startled at the answering utterance. She knew that voice. The last time she heard his discordant tones had been in this very lab. _But, that is not possible! It was destroyed! _She renewed her desperate attempt to escape. She could feel the bindings start to give way.

"Kill them," he ordered. "Start again."

Teyla could hear his footsteps echoing toward her. He was coming for her. She twisted and yanked like a wild thing, and was rewarded for it when one arm snapped free. Her shaking hands went to work on her other arm. He would be on her at any second. She attacked her leg bindings and was soon loose.

She jumped from the table as he threw open the doorway. "Teyla!" he yelled.

Her eyes flew open as Teyla shot up in the bed, her lungs heaving. Momentarily, she sought escape before realizing she was safe in her tent. Still rattled and on edge, she tried to make sense of what she'd seen, with little success.

She didn't know what to make of it. This wasn't just any other nightmare. It had been far too real. Her dreams of late had been very vivid due to her pregnancy, but they were usually of a far more pleasant nature. Many times, she had been loathe to wake from them. Even her hormone-fueled flights of fantasy were nothing compared to what she'd just undergone. The baby was still highly active, pummeling Teyla's insides with all force it's pint-sized limbs could manage. That much had not been part of her dream. It had been real and Teyla wondered if it was possible that the baby had experienced it, as well.

She exhaled deeply and massaged her swollen belly, attempting to soothe her child as best she could. Her only wish at that moment was that John was there to do the same for her.

* * *

Mason cursed that he'd left his iPod in Atlantis. There was nothing more distracting than trying to workout to the tune of Rodney's snoring inside his tent. Ronon was already God-knows-where, doing his thing. Sheppard had shot past him twenty minutes ago, getting his own pre-breakfast exercise by going for a run. People all around him were rising for the day, except the one person he wished would. But this morning, he supposed he could handle one annoyance, because he actually wasn't hurting.

That fact alone made for a pretty great start to his day. Doing push-ups outside in a hoodie and sweats almost seemed like fun. With his drug tolerance levels so high, it was a tricky business getting his dosages just right. Too little and it was like he hadn't taken anything. Too much and it could kill him. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he figured Jennifer had hit the bullseye last night because he felt really good.

"Morning, short stuff," he said to the quiet shadow who was politely waiting off to the side.

"Good morning, Masy."

"What's up?" he asked, trying to keep his count going as he spoke.

"Are you going to eat breakfast with me, today?"

"I don't know." He paused to take another breath. "Is that an invitation?"

"Yes," she replied with a shy grin.

"Let me just finish up here, okay? Just...," he pushed himself off the ground again, "...a few more minutes," he told her.

Setisse chewed on her thumbnail, trying to contain her childish impatience. "Can I go for a ride, Masy?"

He hung in the air, for a moment. "You want to ride on my back?"

When she nodded in the affirmative, he thought about it for a second. Ordinarily, it would be out of the question. His muscles would have been screaming under the pressure of his own body weight, let alone adding more to it.

"Sure. Why not?" he said. Today was different and he could do that for her. She climbed on and he kept counting, now with the little girl's giggles drowning out McKay's droning snores. It was a definite improvement.

Just as he nearly finished, Jennifer meandered toward them with a hot cup of tea in hand. "That looks like fun," she commented.

Mason did one last push-up and called it quits. He settled on the ground and while he caught his breath, Setisse released her grip on his sweatshirt and slid off. He rolled over onto his back and focused on the doctor standing over him. "Why? You want a ride?"

Jennifer raised her eyebrows at the unintended innuendo and smiled at his expense.

"Um...that's not..." he sputtered. "Can you just help me up and pretend I didn't say that?"

"I think I can manage that," she said, holding her hand out.

Once he was up and about, he took Setisse's hand and asked Jennifer, "We're gonna grab some food. Would you care to join us, doc?"

"I would, but I'm supposed to meet Volma," she said apologetically. "She wants to show me a few of the plants they've found here. They may have some medicinal uses."

He shrugged. "Okay. Maybe next time."

"Sure."

Around them, the Athosians were all staring past them. Curious as to what everyone was staring at, they turned around. Ronon was walking through the clearing with his kill slung over his shoulders, looking very Man vs. Wild.

"Looks like dinner's still on," Mason observed.

"Yeah," she said with a faraway tone. "I suppose so."

* * *

With the afternoon sun having finally peeked out from behind the clouds, John's sweater was starting to feel too warm, but he had learned his lesson last night. It wasn't coming off.

"How's it coming over there, McKay?" he asked. John and several others were working, perched high on the support beams for the new roof, which was still largely just an open space. They were trying to get the base laid as quickly as possible, so they could get the weather-proofing done and get it all covered. Rodney nervously worked nearby and his fumbling wasn't helping to expedite matters.

"McKay, we'd like to get this roof finished before winter comes," he teased.

"Stop rushing me!" the scientist protested. "Do you want this done right or not?"

"It's a hammer and nails, Rodney. Just ready, aim, and fire. We're not asking you to hack the Pentagon."

"Please," McKay muttered. "I could hack the Pentagon by the time I was twelve."

"Then, what's the problem?" John asked.

"Do you see how high up we are? I really don't need you distracting me right now. I am working as fast as I can, alright?"

John smirked and looked down at the empty space underneath him. It was probably a good fifteen feet to ground, but after hanging by his arms from the dizzying heights of the control tower in Atlantis, the prospect of a fifteen foot fall didn't bother him so much.

"Just pick up the pace, okay?" John told him. Letting his hammer swing free in his hand, he called down to the ground where a few more were completing work on the interior walls. "Jinto, would you mind handing me another board?"

Jinto, at seventeen, was nearly as tall as his father already and was quite athletic. From the ground, he was able to stretch far enough for John to brace himself and lean over the edge to pull it up. The kid was going to give Ronon a run for his money someday. "Thanks," Sheppard said.

John cautiously walked the thin beams to place the board where it needed to go. Sliding it down, he reached into his pocket for a nail and crouched down. Careful not to get too distracted, he asked Rodney, "Where is Ronon, by the way? I haven't seen him in a while."

McKay murmured back just under an audible level, "That's because you've been too busy mooning over Teyla."

"You're mumbling, Rodney."

"He's over working on...whatever it is he's working on."

John let his hammer fly and hit the nail directly on it's head, slamming it into place. The colonel turned in the direction Dr. McKay had pointed. From his high vantage point, he could see everything going on in the small camp and, sure enough, Ronon was hard at work with the salvaged leather. It was hard to tell from a distance, but he appeared to be weaving each individual strip in and out of the others. Not really aware that braiding was in Ronon's skill set, John inquired, "What do you suppose he's making?"

"Now, how should I know?" Rodney answered, exasperated. Every time John opened his mouth, his trained focus on his task was blown to smithereens. "It could be anything. It's probably some sort of...Satedan garrote."

John shook his head. "Not really his style. Ronon tends to take a more direct approach."

"Bloody maybe, but strangulation seems pretty direct to me," McKay said. "Nothing really quite says 'die' like squeezing the life from someone."

"And how would you know?" John asked him seriously. In all the years he'd been traveling through the gate with Rodney and all the troubled they'd gotten into, the scientist still had an impressively low kill count. He wasn't so lucky.

Sensing he may have stepped into something, he answered uneasily, "It...just seems like it would be."

Nothing kills a conversation quite like death and mayhem, so the two fell into silence and concentrated on their work.

* * *

Even as the day wore on, Teyla found herself unable to shake the disturbing occurrence earlier in the morning. She hadn't spoken to John yet that day, but she found herself seeking his face out among the crowd. Making contact with him, even in such a small way, eased her and she began to feel her resentment toward him loosening its grip on her. He was working very hard, trying to give her people a hand and his efforts touched her. In his current position on the roof, she didn't need to struggle to find him. His black sweater was by no means tight on him, but it showed off the definition of the muscles underneath and Teyla felt the temperature suddenly starting to rise.

Jennifer came up behind her. In her friendly way, she said, "Hey, Teyla! So...are you ready?"

She snapped her gaze away from John. "Ready for what?"

"Your ultrasound," Jennifer grinned, realizing what she'd interrupted. "Are you ready to take a look?"

"Yes," Teyla replied, gathering herself again. "I believe so."

Dr. Keller mentioned, "Should we swing by and get Colonel Sheppard?"

Teyla turned to look back at the roof. He not only had a right as the baby's father to be there, but he would be very upset if he missed it. From the tender and loving way he had reacted last night to the little movements inside her, she no longer had any doubts as to his dedication to his child. His keeping away had been in response to her and her alone.

Teyla nodded in response to Jennifer's question and the pair walked to the small construction zone. John was so focused on what he was doing, he didn't notice they had come. When Teyla called his name, he stiffened in surprise and very nearly lost his balance. His body lurched precariously off to one side. Only his quick reflexes and his strong arms salvaged what could have been a nasty fall.

He managed to right himself. Slightly embarrassed but trying look as cool as possible, he grinned sheepishly and asked, "What's up, ladies?"

* * *

Jennifer had set up most of her equipment in a spare tent, in order to act as sort of it's own little clinic. It was larger than the small two-man tents the team was using to sleep in. After all, how much room do you need to sleep? Keeping the medical equipment protected from the weather and giving Jennifer enough room to work were a much higher priority.

John walked in and looked around. In addition to the equipment from the city, she'd borrowed a spare bed from the Athosians and a couple of chairs. It looked like the infirmary in Atlantis, gone native. "I like what you've done with the place, doc."

Jennifer blushed. "It's not too much? I mean, we're only here for another day, but I thought it'd be nice to have a little something from home."

Teyla, who hadn't set eyes on the city in nearly a month, seemed very grateful for her efforts. While the Athosians were her people and she was naturally at ease with them, this new planet was not her home. Atlantis was. "It is lovely, Jennifer."

"Aw, thanks," she accepted the compliment. "Well, Teyla. If you'll just hop on the bed, we'll get this show on the road."

John held out his hand to Teyla and after only a second of hesitation, she took it. Their eyes met at the contact and they both felt a spark of electricity pass through them. The corner of his mouth lifted as he braced himself. Her body growing more ungainly all the time, she used his weight to help ease herself down gently. While Teyla laid down, he took a seat next to the bed. Dr. Keller brought over her scanner and her pad. She rapidly got the two machines patched in to work in tandem and set them off to the side. The doctor reached out to raise the bottom of Teyla's sweater as Teyla herself nudged the waistband of her skirt lower, exposing the entire length of her growing belly.

John felt his breath hitch in his chest. With her in a prone position and uncovered from the thick clothing, he got a view of her as he'd never seen before. Her body had changed so much while they'd been separated. She had softened, and while he loved the toned, athletic form she usually held, he had nothing but awe for how she looked now. The curves did something for him that he didn't dare show in front of Keller.

Also with the change in angle, came a whole new perspective on the baby's movements. Dr. Keller pulled out a tape measure and laid it vertically over Teyla's womb, slightly pressing down and taking a measurement to make sure it was the proper size for how far along she was. Under the flimsy tape measure and Jennifer's hands, he saw Teyla's beautiful jerk as a kick landed in protest.

Jennifer grinned. "A lot of attitude already. Teyla, I have a feeling you're in for it with this one."

"That's probably my fault," he confessed.

Teyla smiled up at him. "That much I already knew, John."

"Well, if anybody can handle it, it's you," John said lovingly.

With his eyes glued on Teyla, he was finding himself getting overwhelmed with emotion and they hadn't even gotten to the ultrasound yet. How had he been able to stand being away from her for three weeks? Why had he cheated them both out of that time together? He had to look away from her for a minute to get a grip on himself.

When Keller said, "Here we go," he raised his head again. The doctor was holding the scanner over Teyla's stomach with one hand, while doing some calculations on the pad with the other.

"What is it you are doing, Jennifer?" the mother-to-be asked.

Intent on her screen, she glanced up and informed her, "I'm just taking some more measurements, Teyla. Nothing to worry about."

"Of what?" he questioned. At this point, when it had anything to do with his child, he had developed a reflex that tended toward worry. They had been through so much with this pregnancy already and he found himself always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"The works...the baby's heart, liver, bones...," Jennifer said and looking pleased, she added, "I don't get to do this often enough."

"Doc, you do bone scans all the time," he pointed out.

"Yes, but somehow scanning for broken bones isn't nearly as much fun. I could get used to this. We really need more babies in Atlantis, Colonel."

Sheppard chuckled in amusement. "I'll run that thought past Woolsey at the next meeting. You can deal with the stroke when we're done."

"I have a feeling Mr. Woolsey has a softer side that he chooses to keep hidden. He would, perhaps, be far more understanding than you believe, John," Teyla said.

"You can tell him, then. It'd probably come out sounding like a much better idea coming from you, anyway."

"Okay, you two," Jennifer said, bringing that topic to a halt. With a few more flicks of her fingers, she sat back and told them. "That's all done. Everything looks really good. You two have yourselves a healthy little baby."

John took Teyla's hand and squeezed. He was hugely relieved when she returned the gesture.

Teyla asked Jennifer, "Is there still no sign of damage?"

John kept his expression under control, but inwardly he deflated. Ever since Teyla's accident, they had been monitoring her and crossing their fingers. So far they seemed to have gotten lucky, but they was no way to be sure it would stay that way as Teyla's uterus continued to grow and change. Sometimes, he thought Teyla was ignoring the risks because she tried to live her life the way she would have under normal circumstances. Among all the other things he regretted saying, he had also accused her of being in denial the day she left, but it was clear she hadn't forgotten and she was still just as concerned as he was. It was another glaring reminder how wrong he'd been and how much he must have hurt her.

"You're still looking good, Teyla," Jennifer assured her. "Of course, we're gonna continue to keep an eye out, but for now, we're okay. Now...," she continued, lightening the mood, "...for the fun stuff."

Dr. Keller unhooked the scanner from her pad and pushed a few buttons on the small computer. With a wide smile, she told them, "I'm going to make printouts of these when we get back to Atlantis for you to keep, but before I let you see these pictures I have to ask. Do you want to know the sex of your baby?"

* * *

A few more notes: Not where I intended to stop this one, but I felt like this would get WAY too long if I wanted to do justice to what is coming. But, since we did stop here...That's the question of the hour? I'm happy to take opinions on the sex of the baby and possible names. I have a pretty good idea in mind of which way I'm gonna go, but you never know. You might convince me. THANKS! =)


	7. The Athosian Feast

**Chapter 7 – The Athosian Feast**

While Teyla sat up and straightened her clothing, John found the computer pad in his hands. Dr. Keller had said something about giving them time to look through the pictures alone, but he hadn't really been paying attention. The second the cool piece of equipment touched his fingertips, all he could think about was that he was about to be able to put a real face to his son or daughter, instead of what he could manage to picture on his own. Granted, it was a computer generated image. Despite the scanner's superior technology compared to even the 3-D ultrasounds on Earth, it wouldn't be the same as actually laying eyes on his child, but it was by far the best option available.

The recently closed tent flap settled into place and John waited for Teyla to get to where she was comfortable before he scooted his chair in closer to her. Holding the screen out so she could see, he asked, "Are you ready?"

She bit her lower lip, revealing her nervousness. He said, "Don't worry. It's just like all the other scans you've seen before and Keller said she took out the ones that would blow the big secret."

He had been perfectly happy and eager to find out what they were having, but Teyla had asked not to know. Everything about this pregnancy had been so radically different than she'd ever imagined it would be. She had spent half of it in and out of the infirmary, getting scans similar to this and being a pincushion for Jennifer and Carson, when he was in the city. She needed something to be simpler and more in the traditions of the Athosian people, even if it was only a small thing like having the sex of the baby remain a mystery, and John couldn't deny her that. Yielding her motherly veto power, he didn't argue.

"I am not worried, John. I just do not know what to expect. It is not everyday one lays eyes on their first child," Teyla told him.

"Well...we're not really seeing him yet. We won't until he's born," John said. "Just think of it more like a preview of coming attractions."

She looked at him quizzically. "Do you believe it to be a boy?"

"What do you mean?"

She smiled. "You said 'him'. Do you think it's a boy?"

"Did I?" he asked. "I don't really know, but hey...there's at least a 50/50 chance I'm right."

"Would you prefer having a boy over a girl?"

John considered the question. The prospect of a boy certainly presented less of a mystery to him. He used to be one. He was sure in some ways, he still was. Football, camping, video games, racing cars down the hallways. He'd probably be in sparring lessons with Teyla and Ronon as soon he was old enough to walk. He imagined there would be a few angry calls from Uncle Rodney, telling him to come get his son out of one experiment or another. John could see it all, but he couldn't deny that a girl held it's own appeal and more than a few challenges.

Most likely, there would be a lot of tea parties in his future with a daughter who was part-Athosian. And where there were girls, there were dolls. Lots of dolls. And the color pink. _Scary_. But, he could handle all that to have one soft, sweet, and curled up in his lap. Simultaneously, a part of him melted and he heard his inner Papa Bear roar. He knew any daughter of Teyla's would be more than capable of taking care of herself. Hell, she'd probably come out swinging, but when he pictured his little daughter in a sparring lesson with Ronon, he already wanted to pummel the guy.

"I think either way it goes, we're headed for trouble," he told Teyla with a smirk.

His fingers danced over the keys to the pad and he brought up the pictures and video clips. They spent the next several minutes together committing every image to memory. The rapid fluttering of the heart and the eyes that remained closed on the world, down to every finger and every toe. For that short window of time, John and Teyla weren't at odds. They forgot how complicated things were between them and all the hurt feelings. They were simply proud parents getting a glimpse of their child. She was leaning on him in order to get the best view she could. She was so close, he could smell the soap on her skin and the shampoo in her hair. He turned and placed a lingering kiss on her temple.

Although she didn't pull away from him right away, she did pull away. He tried to put on a brave face and pretend that it was okay, but it hurt. Horrendously. Referring to the difficult situation they found themselves in, he asked, "What are we going to do, Teyla?"

She took a deep breath and, with a break in her tone, said, "I do not know."

He had told her that he wasn't going to push. He knew rushing her was liable to backfire, but he couldn't keep watching her from a distance and not be with her. She was in him, a part of him he couldn't let go of again. Seeing their child made it seem all the more imperative that he act. He had to put his family back together. They deserved better than a seemingly never-ending holding pattern. They deserved everything he had to give.

"You know what I want," he told her, setting aside the pad. "I want you."

"John..."

"Teyla, please hear me out." He took her hand. "I love you so much I can't see straight. I want to make this right. Tell me," he pleaded with her. "Please, just tell me what I have to do to make this right and I'll do it. Anything..."

She shook her head, trying not to let her love for him blind her. "For nearly a month, I have waited for you with no word from you. Nothing. You did not even radio to ask if things were going well."

She stopped for a moment, cursing the tears that seemed to fall so easily these days, especially where John was concerned. " Whenever I look at you now, I see both the man I love and the man that deserted me wearing the same face. I want nothing more than to be able to see you as I once did, but what could you possibly do to make that go away? Perhaps you know of something, because I do not."

The bitter taste of defeat soured his tongue. There was no excuse for what he'd allowed to happen and there was nothing he could do to ever make it right. Nothing would ever be good enough. All he could do was throw himself on the mercy of the court and pray for a stay of execution.

"Teyla, I can't undo the past. I've done things in my life I regret. Opportunities I missed. People I let slip through my fingers. There are a lot of things and I would go back in a second and change, if I had the chance." He stared straight into her, willing her to hear the abject sincerity in his heart. "I hope you can believe that not coming after you was the worst mistake of my life and I know that. I'm asking you for another chance. Give me the chance to prove to you that I'm the man you fell in love with...and not that other guy."

She didn't give him an answer for what seemed like an eternity. He studied her, searching for some clue as to what she was thinking and he wasn't liking what he saw. He was hoping for a flash of her brilliant smile and a mad dash into each other's arms. Then, maybe they could do a little remodeling of Keller's infirmary here... But, with every passing second, it was looking more and more like a dead man's fantasy.

"I need more time, John. Can you allow me that?"

Dejected, he nodded. A frog firmly lodged in his throat, he managed, "Okay. I'll, um...I'll get out of your hair. I should probably be getting back anyway. We're trying to get the roof finished before the feast tonight."

She gave him a small, "Be careful."

He took it for the basic gesture that it was. She still cared, but he still didn't know if it was enough.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon was spent in a mad dash. While a small army of people slaved to complete construction on the community building, Jol and her cadre of helpers were busily getting ready to feed everyone. Ronon's contribution to the feast had already been slow roasting for hours and the smells permeating from it were making everyone's mouths water.

"They're doing that on purpose, you know," Rodney told his teammates as they all worked on the rooftop. He spared a finger long enough to point to the fire pit where the savory smells were originating from. "It's no better than torture, if you ask me."

"It's motivation, Rodney. Just think of it that way," John advised him without lifting his head. He only paused for a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow. "The sooner we get done, the sooner you can eat."

"Like you aren't thinking the same thing."

John exhaled. "Actually, I'm not that hungry."

Ever since he returned to work, the colonel had joined Ronon in stoic silence. McKay managed to pull a few words from him here and there, but it was an uphill battle. When Rodney was coerced into making this trip, he hoped as a consolation prize the spectacular amount of moping going on would finally come to an end. Well, that plan was rapidly joining the ranks of so many others that had been colossal failures. Sheppard was as miserable as ever and Teyla wasn't far behind. Ronon had barely said two words in the last two days.

"Keep moving, McKay," Ronon boomed from behind.

_Five. Five words in two days._ Capshaw wasn't one for small talk, but he at least had the decency to perk up this morning. Jennifer was the one shining beacon of optimism in the bunch, Rodney included. _Oh yeah, this was going to be a fun party_.

* * *

"Masy, what are these?" Setisse asked, pointing to her dinner plate with a wrinkled nose.

All around them, people were finishing up their excellent meals and the first casks of Ruus wine were beginning to appear. McKay dove in with an enthusiasm Capshaw found surprising. At least he'd eaten enough for ten or he didn't think the scientist, who was a notorious lightweight, would last the hour.

Mason, with his own plate already emptied, looked down at the sliced, orange vegetables the girl was pushing around with her fork. "Carrots."

"These are from your home, right? Um...what's it called, again?"

"Earth," he reminded her. "These carrots have traveled a long, long way just to get on that plate, so eat up. They're good for you."

She didn't look too convinced, so he threw in, "If you eat your carrots, next time I visit I'll bring you a candy bar."

"Helia says we shouldn't eat candy. She says it's bad for our teeth," the dark-haired girl lectured him. Helia, the woman who had assumed the teacher role for the orphaned kids, was a typical Athosian. She was polite, well-meaning, and had a propensity for the truth that Mason found unnecessary at times. Given their general their general proximity to the nearest candy store, he didn't think warning the kids about the dangers of candy was strictly warranted.

"Yeah, well...Helia also tells you there must be balance in life. For everything taken, something is given. For all the bad, there is also good, right?" he countered.

"Yes."

He leaned in and pointed at her nose, giving her his best wise old man impression. "Candy bars may taste good, but they're bad for you. Carrots may taste bad, but they're good for you. So, see? It all evens out. It doesn't get much more balanced than that. So eat your carrots, kid."

She giggled, stabbing her vegetables. "You're silly, Masy."

"Don't spread it around, okay?" he requested.

As Setisse finally began to nibble off her loaded fork, Helia and a couple of other women started gathering up the children. Mason warned her, "You'd better hurry up. Looks like it's time for bed."

"I don't want to go to bed," she complained. "Do you have to go to bed, too?"

"Soon enough," he said. He hadn't been to an Athosian blowout before, so he figured he'd take in the sights but that would probably be it. With a fresh dose of pain meds coursing through his veins, drinking was off the table and he was already feeling exhaustion creeping in from the day's work. He didn't figure he'd stay too long.

"Get along, now," Mason said, softly. "Helia's waiting for you and you need to get your sleep. I'll still be here in the morning."

"Promise?"

"I promise," he told her.

* * *

Things didn't really get going until after the kids were in bed, but as soon as they did... The Athosians were a hard working people and they'd been through a lot in the last year. All around him, people were drinking, laughing, dancing, and basically dedicating that same work ethic to having a good time. The trio of musicians in the corner strummed their instruments, keeping things lively and lighthearted. It was good. They needed to blow off some steam. Already a fan of Athosian parties, John wished he was in the mood to join in, but he couldn't muster up half their enthusiasm and he was starting to feel out of place. Having been there for two hours, he felt like he'd done his duty in making an appearance and was seriously considering a strategic retreat.

Rodney, who was well on his way to plastered and growing unsteady on his feet, held out a glass to him. "Have a drink, Sheppard."

John smiled and held up the barely touched glass he already had. "I'm all set, McKay. Thanks."

"Come on," Rodney insisted. "I drank with you. You should have a drink with me."

Humoring the man, John took it and had a few gulps that proceeded to burn down his throat. The wine hadn't lost it's kick.

When he set down the cup, Rodney asked, "That's it?"

"I think you've had enough for the both of us."

"You're no fun, anymore. She's done a real number on you."

John nodded. "Maybe so."

"Love sucks, huh?"

As much as he could have agreed with the inebriated scientist, he couldn't bring himself to. He may be depressed as hell right now, but he still believed in love. He still held out hope that things would work out.

Rodney wobbled dangerously and John jumped out of his seat to grab him before he hit the floor.

"Okay, Rodney. Party's over."

John looped McKay's arm across his shoulders and encouraged him to walk. They were making progress toward the door of the newly completed venue when he heard Teyla from behind.

"I see Rodney has been enjoying the wine," she observed.

"Yeah. You'd think he would have learned his lesson last time, huh?"

McKay careened wildly around and John had to fight to keep his balance and Rodney upright. Rodney protested, "Hey! I've only had two...two...or is it four...oh crap, am I seeing double? Because if I had four, that means it was...what's four times two?"

"Twelve," John told him. It was a decent measure of how drunk he was to see how long it would take him to work that out. "Listen, I'm just gonna get him outta here and call it a night, myself."

"You are not coming back to the feast?" She may have only asked to be a polite hostess, but he dared to think that she actually looked a little disappointed.

"No...no...that's not right. Your math is off, Mensa...," McKay said, hanging on him.

John met Teyla's eyes and tried not to look as pathetic as he felt. "I don't think so, Teyla. But, you have some fun. You deserve it."

"Oh, look at that. The floor is spinning. Getting dizzy...and sick," Rodney gulped. More frantic, he repeated, "Getting sick."

"Okay, that's my cue," John said starting forward. He was certain that the Athosians didn't intend their new building to get baptized quite like this. "Teyla...," he turned back. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, John," she answered quietly.

* * *

Watching Sheppard haul Rodney away, Mason thought about calling it a night, too. Ronon was usually good to hang out with, but with his mood being a game of Russian Roulette lately, Capshaw decided to leave him to the corner he'd holed himself up in. Being one of the few sober people in the room was getting weirder all the time, too, as he kept getting suggestive glances from a petite brunette across the room. She was pretty, but it made him uncomfortable. He had to be at least twice her size, yet she was making him feel like he was being sized up for a meal.

He stood up to go, when Jennifer walked up and hooked her arm in his. "Leaving so soon?" she asked. She had a nearly-full glass in her hands, but she had an expression on her face that made him wonder if she wasn't a little tipsy.

"Yeah," he told her. "I'm pretty tired." The other excuses aside, that part was true. He didn't think that doing some roofing would wear him out like this, but he was feeling an oppressive need to sleep.

She furrowed her brow and reached up, cupping her hands around his face to line it up with hers. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Would you quit it?" He pulled away from what he knew was a poor attempt at a pupil exam and interrupted what he knew was her growing concern. "Can't I be tired anymore without you flying into doctor mode?"

She pursed her lips and he answered his own question, bitterly. "I suppose not, huh? That's what we are, right? Doctor and patient. We can't even have a conversation anymore without it being about me and my problems."

"I care about you and it's because I care that I worry about you," she told him. "Is that so bad?"

"Sometimes," he stated. He sighed. They were at a party and the last thing he wanted or had energy for was an argument. "Do you want to dance, Keller?"

Surprised, she studied him. "Do you dance?"

"Not really, but I promise not to step on your toes," he responded.

"In that case, it's a deal."

He led her to where the designated dance floor was, took her hand and pulled her in. It took a few beats to get into rhythm, but he got there. He wrapped his arm around her waist, Jennifer rested her hands behind his neck, and they settled into a comfortable position.

After a minute of pleasant silence, Jennifer looked at him and said with a straight face, "You know? You were right. You can't dance."

He chuckled. "As advertised."

He led her around the dance floor, taking advantage of the chance he was getting. The pain-free morning had lived up to it's promise. He hadn't felt a twinge all day. As they swayed, he was able to hold her close without pain from the contact needling him. It was an opportunity that didn't come around often and he would have been a fool to pass it up.

He must have done something. Maybe he leaned on her a little too much. Perhaps, she noticed the sleepy glaze over his eyes, but she asked again, "Mason, are you sure you're okay?"

He tipped his head down toward her like he was going to confess a big secret to her and whispered, "You know, Jennifer, paranoia doesn't look that good on you."

She frowned in mock annoyance. "Thanks a lot, Mason."

"No problem."

* * *

From his solitary place in the room, Ronon emptied another glass of Ruus wine. Having grown accustomed to the harsh drink long ago, he was relatively untouched by it's effects. Normally at a feast, he would have been a much more enthusiastic about the festivities, but tonight he was laying his ghosts to bed. He drank to Tyre, the friend he had misjudged and had died seeking redemption in bringing him home. Of all the former friends, Tyre was the lucky one. Ara and Rakai had never gotten that last chance to try and reclaim their honor and Ronon had to live knowing what he had done.

Ronon looked up from the empty glass, sensing he was no longer alone. Teyla stood quietly nearby, with her own glass in hand, without making any attempt to interrupt. She understood better than anyone, that if she were welcome, he would say. In the meantime, she was content to lend him her support at a distance.

"Teaching him to drink like a man already?" Ronon called to her, extending an unspoken invitation.

Teyla slowly moved forward. "It is only water, Ronon, and I do not know if it is a boy or not."

He grinned as she slid into the seat next to him. He replied, "Just checking. I hadn't heard."

"You have been very busy, today. I would be surprised if you had."

He nodded. "Yeah."

Teyla took his large hands in hers and he welcomed the contact. It was the first real human contact he'd had in a while. Tearing apart marines, decking Jennifer, and even his caring inspection of her injury were so encased in his emotional upheaval they didn't count. Now Ronon was here, putting the past in it's proper place and Teyla's small gesture comforted him.

"I deeply regret not being there for you, my friend," she said. In response to the surprised expression he gave her, she told him, "Jennifer saw fit to fill me in on some of the details."

Ronon nodded in comprehension. His ordeal was hard enough on him. He was glad he could spare at least one of his friends the sight of the thing they'd turned him into. With his trademark rocky voice, he said, "It's better this way. I didn't want you there."

"It would have changed nothing," she assured him, touching his cheek. "You are and you will ever be the same man I would happily call my brother and I hope, family to my child."

She pulled him into her arms and they shared a reunion of sorts. It was more than a hug, it was a bringing together of family and healing of spirits.

With a tight squeeze, Ronon said, "It's too late. You couldn't get rid of me now, even if you wanted to."

Teyla smiled.

Shaking off the past, Ronon said, "Bet it was nice. Seeing your kid, today."

"It was wonderful," she confirmed, her smile widening. She wondered aloud, "Do you ever think of having a family of your own, Ronon? You have always seemed to be content as you are and you've never spoken of it before."

Ronon stole a glance at the dance floor, where Mason and Jennifer seemed comfortable in one another's arms. "Sometimes. Don't know if I'd be any good at it, though."

"Any woman of your choosing would be fortunate to have you," Teyla said, her gaze tracking his to the young doctor. "I can think of few in my acquaintance who I believe would make a better father."

The Satedan winced inwardly at her words and tore his eyes away from Jennifer. His part in what was happening was one of the last things that continued to eat at him. He started, "It's my fault, you know?"

"What is?"

"Sheppard. It's my fault he wasn't here a long time ago."

Teyla stiffened. "Ronon, John is your friend. I understand your wanting to defend him."

"It's not that," he declared. "If I thought it wouldn't have made a difference, I'd kill him myself for doing that to you."

She looked at him skeptically. Okay, he probably wouldn't have killed his best friend, but he definitely would have put him in the infirmary for something far more serious than a twisted knee.

"Teyla...," he explained, "...if he hadn't been searching for me and watching out for me, things would've been different. He would have been here."

She wavered. "He never said anything about..."

"Well, he probably doesn't see it that way, but that doesn't make it any less the truth," Ronon pushed. "He wouldn't have lasted half as long without you."

He slung his long arm over her shoulders and pulled her in. "I don't want to get in the middle of this. You know what's best for you." With the familiarity that comes with family, he gently set his hand on her belly. "But, you have a family, Teyla. You and I both know how hard that is to come by and how hard it is to hang on to. Don't let go. Not because of me."

Teyla covered his hand with her own and squeezed. "I will consider what you say, Ronon, as long as you consider what I have to say. Do not ever doubt that you have family. No matter what happens, that will always be the case."

Her eyes shifted back in Jennifer's direction before she continued. "And if you feel yourself in want of something more, you should never be afraid to go after it, because it is worth the effort. I know."

He knew that last comment was more for her own benefit than his, but it hit home all the same.

* * *

Soon after their dance, Mason did leave the party. It was getting late and after the early morning and working all afternoon, he could hardly keep his eyes open. Walking across the camp to his small tent, his limbs felt heavier and heavier, as though made of stone.

He sluggishly unzipped the tent and crawled inside. He didn't bother changing. The chill in the air made the prospect too unpleasant and he didn't have the energy to spare as it was. As he laid on his back and his head hit the pillow, he vaguely thought before he surrendered to blackness swallowing him whole, that it had been a good day.

* * *

Jennifer spent a few more hours at the party, watching the Jol and Feylon show with Teyla. She found it entertaining under normal circumstances, but with the slight buzz she had going, it seemed downright hilarious. The began to break up as more people were calling it a night and Teyla convinced her to do the same.

Teyla walked with her to her tent and then kept going after saying goodnight.

"Where are you going?" Jennifer asked. Teyla's tent lie in the other direction.

"I have something I need to tend to," Teyla said cryptically.

After a curious 'Okay', Jennifer entered her tent.

Sitting on her pillow waiting for her, was an intricately and beautifully braided leather bracelet. She'd seen women on many other planets wearing things similar to it, but she'd never seen them quite like this one. Making it had been no simple task. Integrated into the basic structure of the weave was a tribal looking pattern that Jennifer was reasonably sure she had seen before.

Jennifer lifted it from where it rested and looked around, a silly thing to do really, because there was no where in the small tent for anyone to hide. But it didn't stop of her from looking for the man who had left it. Disappointed he wasn't there, she slipped it over her wrist.

* * *

While he was engrossed in a game of video golf wrapped in blankets, his feet restlessly danced along the floor, causing the pilot's seat to swivel. The rear remained open just a crack to keep the oxygen flowing into the air-tight space, but as a side effect, the cold came in as well. His team were kept comfortable in their tents by battery powered space heaters, brought along just for this occasion. There wasn't one for the jumper, though, so John had to run the heaters built into the craft. It kept him from freezing inside the jumper, but he kept it low in order to prevent a significant power drain on the craft. He didn't want to have to walk all the way back to the gate because the batteries were dead. As a result, it was chilly inside, but with his blankets it was bearable.

There came a soft knock on the rear hatch, breaking John's concentration. Keeping the blankets tight around him, he set down the game, and rose. A directed thought to the Ancient systems and the hatch lowered.

"Am I disturbing you?" Teyla asked as she stood outside. She clutched at her coat, trying to keep the wind out.

"No," he said. He shuddered as he said, "Geez, it's cold. Get in here."

Teyla padded up the ramp and John commanded the ramp to close again. He turned up the power on the heaters. When Teyla left, he would restore the settings back to where he had them, but for the time being, he wanted her to be comfortable.

"Welcome to Chez Sheppard. I'd get you something to drink, but the minibar's tapped out at the moment," he joked. He tried not to think about what she had come to say, because he didn't think he'd like the answer. He asked her to sit down and she took up a place in the co-pilot's chair, careful to adjust the long folds of her skirt as she sat.

"How was the feast?"

"I spoke with Ronon. He had some interesting things to say," she began.

"Really?" he said in mild surprise. "'Cause he hasn't really been in a talking mood lately."

"That's to be expected, given the circumstances."

John nervously adjusted his position in his seat. "I guess I should just be glad you're still in one piece. There are a few guys in Atlantis who aren't so lucky."

"Ronon would never hurt me," she said pointedly.

"I...," he faltered. _That makes one of us_. "I know that."

John waited for her to go on, but she seemed to be considering something very carefully. He wondered what Ronon could have had to say to cause her to behave this way. "Teyla, why are you really here?"

When she didn't answer, he felt his frustration rising. He got up and started pacing the length of the jumper. He couldn't take this indecision as it was and having her standing in front of him and not be allowed to touch her was too much. "Do you want to talk about what happened to Ronon? Because if you do, let's talk about it. Otherwise..."

"No," she said. "I came to talk about our situation."

"I thought you wanted time," John responded. "Teyla, you have no idea how much I want to...It's too hard! I'm trying to give you the time _you_ wanted!"

"I think we have lost enough time," she said and his eyes snapped up to meet hers.

"What did you say?" For a moment, he thought his heart had run away with his ears. She repeated herself and he nearly had to sit down. "Are you sure?"

"Our child needs a father," she told him.

He groaned and stressed, "Teyla, no matter what happens between us, our baby will have a father. Nothing's gonna change that. I don't want you to settle for something...for a life with me, if it's not what you really want."

"I still love you, John," she said. Her composure was breaking down and tears were forming in her eyes. "I have tried not to. I have lied awake at night trying to convince myself that I didn't, but it seems that I do. I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts."

John pulled her onto her feet and took her in his arms. "I know exactly how you feel," he whispered in her ear. "I'm never going to let you feel that way again. I swear to God, Teyla. Never."

They stood wrapped together, letting their bodies say the things that were too difficult and too primitive to ever properly articulate. They were the shattered pieces of two people beginning to be made whole again. What had felt so wrong and so painful for so long was finally lifting.

John's lips searched hers out, this time secure in the knowledge that she wouldn't turn him away. When they met, he wasn't disappointed. Teyla let herself go and she returned his kiss with a passion she had been afraid to feel for him once again. Her love for him had caused her agonizing pain, but it was only capable of that because it was so devastatingly strong. It's raw power was the reason she was willing to have faith in him. He would not let her down this time. As his lips enveloped hers and she felt a needful, searching stroke of his tongue against hers, every molecule in her being told her it was the right decision.

Teyla's hands caressed the sides of his face as his arms drifted to the small of her back and pulled her in until the laws of physics said no more. Their bodies, starved and aching for each other tested their limits as best as they could. John found that she didn't fit as neatly against him as she used to. He gently pulled his lips from Teyla and looked down. His hand swept over her stomach, tenderly stroking it over the fabric that while weather appropriate, was hardly conducive to what he had in mind.

"I think...," he breathed before he attacked the sensitive flesh of her neck, "...we're going to have to make a few adjustments."

Teyla could feel his intentions, pressed hard against her thigh as he bombarded her senses. Clutching his back, she managed. "I am sure...we can...think of something."

She peeked out from beneath her heavily-lidded eyes and nudged him toward the pilot's chair. He yielded to her body and backed up as he continued to reacquaint himself with every line and curve of her neck. She closed her eyes and moaned when he hit that one spot that never failed to send a shiver down her spine. It had become a favorite of his and apparently that had not changed as he set his lips and tongue loose upon it. With concentrated effort, she pushed him back again, until his knees ran into the edge of the chair and he was forced to sit.

She reached down and starting to undo his belt. She could feel his straining flesh inside his pants, aching to be free of its prison.

"Teyla," he said, his voice rocky and his eyes dark. "Did I ever tell you...about what pilots like to do in cockpits?"

"Fly?" she said with a smile, knowing the true answer. His belt undone, she went to work on his zipper.

"That's one way to put it."

He rose just high enough to allow her room to push his pants down to the desired level and he snaked his arm up the folds of her skirt. With one hand he held her by the hip, while the other got rid of her now unnecessary undergarments. A searching finger carefully reached for her center. Teyla's head lolled back at the intimate contact. She was wet, ready for him, and hotter than he remembered. He settle back into the chair, pulling her with him. She spread her legs around his waist, straddling him, while his hands ran up and down them. She held herself just above his impatient erection, feeling the same way. There would be time later for a long, slow reunion. She only wished to be one with him.

She slid down, allowing him to enter her and watched with satisfaction the sheer pleasure wash over his face. He groaned loudly and his hands that until then were pushing her skirts out of the way, retreated underneath and dug into her hips. She began to rock slowly against him. "Oh...God, Teyla..."

He opened his eyes and watched her above him. Her new figure didn't diminish her grace in any way. Every time she moved, he was caught up in a wave of sensory overload. She was a bright spot in his vision and he leaned his upper body against hers. He would've given anything to have her naked, her breasts pressing up against his bare chest, but..._Later. We can do all that later_. Another slow shift of her hips over him had him panting against her neck.

"Teyla," he moaned, pleading for her to increase the pace of the dance. She seemed content to remain at this deliciously, torturously slow speed and he was being driven out of his mind in the most pleasurable way imaginable.

"Patience, John," she said, getting lost in her own bubble of enjoyment. "It is your turn to wait for me."

How could he argue with that? Why would he want to? He clung to her as she rode him, milking him for every ounce of self-control he possessed. With one hand, he released her and reached for her core. The cry that ripped from her nearly did him in as her body tightened around him like a coil ready to spring. He grunted and gritted his teeth, hanging on by a thread. His fingers rubbed gently as she undulated against him. Her nails dug into his back. If he hadn't been still wearing a shirt, he was sure he'd have ten half-moon shaped wounds there in the morning.

Their tempo remained the same, creeping and mind-blowing. "John!" she screamed. Under John's skilled fingertips, Teyla's body tensed and she rested her forehead on his as she came with a powerful shudder. He latched onto her with his arms and thrust upward, riding her waves into an explosion all his own.

As their minds began to clear, John kissed her. He couldn't seem to stop. He was still inside her and sated for the moment, but he couldn't let her go. He felt alive again for the first time in a month and it was about way more than sex. It was about the two people in his arms. The woman he loved and the child resting between them.


	8. Rude Awakening

**Chapter 8 – Rude Awakening**

With the change in venue, their clothes hadn't stood a chance. The bulky sweaters that stood in the way of their exploration of each other were quickly cast off and lay slung haphazardly in Teyla's tent. Her skirt, which both kept her warm and allowed room for her growing child, was deemed by John to be no longer needed. He had every intention of taking over those jobs for the rest of the night. Teyla wasn't feeling nearly as practically minded when she stripped him of his pants and had tossed them aside to join their fellows on the floor. They spent the night blissfully unaware of the ominous wind blowing and the nose-diving temperatures outside. When the first flakes of snow began to fall, they were otherwise occupied. Whether they were in the throes of passion or resting peacefully against each other, they existed in their own world and in their own time.

Covered by the thick blankets on her bed and hovering somewhere between awareness and sleep, John lay on his left side with Teyla tucked in along his back. Her arm was draped over his side and while she slept, it hung relaxed across his ribs. The feeling of her hand moving drew John back from the pleasant exhaustion keeping his eyes shut. Her fingers softly and seductively trailed up and down his chest along the entire length of his torso. Unseen and without opening his lids, the corners of John's mouth turned up when she would reach the end of the line, hesitate, and then run her hand back up. He purposefully kept his breathing slow, so as not to give away the fact that he was aware of her attentions and growing significantly more aware with every passing second.

It was nearly dawn. People would be up and moving around the settlement soon and Teyla was playing a very dangerous game with him. The tent was in no way soundproof and, at least, while the camp slept they could enjoy themselves without too much fear of being overheard. With every pass she took, running her fingers through his chest hair and stirring his blood, she was essentially daring him. And John Sheppard wasn't one to back down from a challenge.

He opened his eyes and stared straight ahead. He allowed himself a deep breath, letting her know she was getting to him. Her wandering hand shifted its attentions onto his leg. Starting at his thigh just above the knee, it traveled north to his naked hip and back again, keeping to its teasing pattern. She would get so close, painfully close, and then move away. John's eyes blackened as his heart began to hammer in his chest.

"I thought you might've had enough," he lowly spoke into the air.

Her mouth sidled up to his ear and not quite at a whisper, she said, "I have been feeling a rather intense need lately for...physical intimacy. It can be very distracting."

"And you'd like me to do something about it?"

He could practically hear the smile on her face. "If you can," she baited him. She ran her hand up his leg again, brushing ever closer to his manhood. "It may be beyond even your capabilities."

"What makes you say that?" he asked with a grin, wondering where she was going with this.

"It is most likely due to the pregnancy and it may not go away for some time."

He caught her hand as she was finally giving up the tease and reaching for him. Holding onto to her wrist, he turned over to face her. In the dim light, he could see the spots he'd left on her body during their night of ecstasy. It may have been a primitive, cave man sort of attitude that prompted him to brand her as his once again, but seeing her in all her naked, pregnant glory with his mark on her...it was a hell of a turn on. "Some time, huh? I can live with that."

Careful to avoid putting too much pressure on his child, John rolled her onto her back. Reaching down her thigh, he wrapped his hand under her knee and pulled her leg up and around his waist, surrounding him. He made love to her as though it were his mission to satisfy her insatiable need or die trying. He nearly did. They both made a valiant effort to keep silent during the whole lingering, delicious process, but when her exquisite orgasm surrounded him at the same time his became too much for him to contain, they were both lost. With his breath moving in and out like a freight train, he slammed his mouth on hers to try to stifle the loud groans coming unbidden from his throat and muffle her cries.

As their spent bodies came down from the surge of endorphins, the kiss born out of desperation became one of tenderness and deep satisfaction. Propped up on one elbow to keep his weight from becoming too much, he took his other hand and surrounded her cheek and the nape of her neck. His lips caressed and massaged hers as her nails lightly scraped along his back, sending a surge of relaxing energy through his body.

"God, I love you," he murmured.

The arm supporting most of his weight grew tired and he eventually had to roll away. Not for the first time that night, or morning as it was rapidly becoming, he pulled her into him and the couple fell asleep.

* * *

When Jennifer woke up and stared up at the roof of her tent, she wondered why it looked like an elephant sat on it. She rolled off her cot to investigate, feeling the steady beat of a drum in her head as she went. Unzipping the tent door was a big mistake. The blinding white light of the snow in the morning sun nearly knocked the doctor over. Her hand flew up and shielded her eyes that had been momentarily rendered useless. _Tylenol and a seeing-eye dog. That's what I need. So much for Rodney's prediction of no snow until next week. _She slowly peeked through her fingers and where her vision hadn't gone purple, she reached out with her free hand and knocked away the collection of snow on top of her tent. Having grown up in the winters of Wisconsin, Jennifer could tell the temperature wasn't quite right to maintain the snowfall. The bright sunlight would melt it all before day's end, but winter was on its way and this was just the opening salvo.

With that job done, Jennifer crept back into her tent and reached for her duffel. The bracelet Ronon had given her slid out from underneath her long sleeve, where it had retreated to in the night. In spite of her rude awakening this morning, she couldn't help but smile. Like everyone else around her, she had been curious as to what the warrior was up to with his salvaged leather strap, but she never imagined this. He had put a lot of work into it. Even if she hadn't seen him at it, the level of artistry the bracelet showcased would have said it all.

Once she was dressed and prepared for what awaited her outside, Jennifer walked across the camp. She must have slept in, because it appeared that most of the Athosians had already had their breakfast and were getting down to the business of uncovering their tools and materials. Jol called to her from the waning fires in front of the newly completed building where it seemed everyone had gathered to eat. She was stirring what looked like a final batch of oatmeal.

"Dr. Keller, I am glad to see last night's festivities have not done you in."

"Not completely, anyway," Jennifer admitted, still feeling the nagging ache penetrating her skull.

The Athosian woman smoothed a stray hair back behind her ear and laughed. "You Lanteans. You and your friends must attend the feasts more often." She indicated inside the building. "It seems that Ronon is the only one among you with any stomach for them. I've not seen any of the rest so much as poke out their heads all morning."

"You haven't, huh?" Jennifer asked, suddenly feeling nervous. "Ronon's still inside?"

Jol gave her a knowing glance. "Yes. He is inside. He was up quite early this morning helping out. I finally twisted his arm and forced to him to sit down and eat. A man like that needs good food to keep up his strength." She handed a distracted Jennifer a bowl full of the 'oatmeal' and said, "Go. You will need it to take care of that headache."

"How did you know I had a headache?" Jennifer questioned her.

"It was inevitable, dear."

With a chuckle to acknowledge the woman's perceptive ways, Keller took her bowl and wandered inside. At one of the far tables, Ronon sat alone. One thing was for sure, the Satedan could work leather. The form it came in didn't seem to matter. The long, leather duster he wore suited him. She'd always thought so, but somehow it felt like she was seeing it again for the first time.

"Hi." It came out quieter than she thought it would, but it did the trick. Ronon looked up at her. "Do you mind if I join you?"

Ronon sat up straighter his chair. "Sure."

She sat down trying to think of what to say. It was funny. She had no problem talking to him most of the time. But then, most of the time it was in the infirmary where she was in her element or they had the buffer of Col. Sheppard and the others to take the pressure off. Fortunately for her, before things got too awkward, Ronon made the first move.

"Looked like you were having fun last night," he said.

She blushed slightly. Apparently, Jol wasn't the only who noticed that she'd allowed herself to cut loose. It wasn't something she did often. She never had. Teenage rebellion had been wasted on her and she took her duties in Atlantis far too seriously. But she wasn't sure whether her embarrassment stemmed from dropping her self-discipline long enough to let go or having it be seen by him. "Yeah, I did. I...probably shouldn't have but I thought, you know...we're here. Why not?"

"Nothing wrong with that," he said. His brown eyes were fixed on her.

"Ronon," she started. "I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"For this." She twisted her wrist so that the bracelet would shift into view. "It's really...it's amazing. I had no idea you could do stuff like this."

Ronon shrugged his shoulders, trying to appear nonchalant. "I...don't do it very often."

"Where did you learn?"

"My, um...my mother," he stated, uncomfortably. She instantly felt bad about asking. Ronon had always been sensitive when it came to talking about his past and Sateda. Probably doubly so now, after everything he'd been through recently with his former comrades.

"She was an artisan. It was...before I was old enough to join the guard. She'd make all kinds of jewelry, paintings...things like that. I'd help out in the shop after training."

Jennifer leaned on her elbow, listening intently. "Really? I can't picture you working in a store."

He grinned sheepishly. "Well, I wasn't very good at it. I probably got into more trouble than I helped. Couldn't hold still."

"Now, that I can believe," she confirmed. She returned his smile, thinking of the many times Ronon had escaped her custody before he'd been released.

"I think she taught me just to me busy. It helped, having something in my hands, you know?" Ronon paused for a long moment, then cleared his throat. "Turns out, it came in handy, having to put together ropes for traps and things when I was still running. I haven't made anything like that in a while, though."

A hush fell between the two of them. Jennifer found herself playing with it, spinning it back and forth over her wrist. The bruise on her face was finally beginning to turn from a forbidding black to a healing shade of green, but it hadn't gone and she didn't want him doing things out of guilt. "I'm honored that you thought of me, Ronon, but I hope you didn't do this because of what happened. I meant what I said. You don't owe me anything and this is...so, so nice. I really don't deserve it."

"I made it because I wanted to...," he said, "...and I wanted you to have it."

She nodded, accepting the gift. "Thank you. It really is beautiful."

Ronon shifted in his seat, anxiously. He cleared his throat. "When we get back to Atlantis, I could...give you some sparring lessons. That way, the next time somebody goes after you, you can do something about it."

"Oh, I don't know, Ronon. I'm not really..." Not being the most athletic person in the galaxy, she could already picture becoming one of Ronon's countless casualties of the gym.

"I'll take care of you. I promise," he said, answering her unexpressed worries as though he could read her mind.

She could feel the redness returning to her cheeks. The sincerity rang true in his voice and she didn't have any doubt that he would.

"I'd like that."

* * *

"We cannot spend all day in bed, John," Teyla admonished him.

John was down on all fours, armed with only his pants and his dog tags. He was searching for his shirt that had somehow been misplaced in all the excitement. Teyla watched him appreciatively from above, pulling on her own clothes. She smiled to herself, eying the faint crescents she had left on his bare back.

From the ground, he said, "Teyla, I'm on vacation...there it is!" He fished his sweater out of from underneath a blanket that had also been tossed aside during the night. He pulled the top over his head and\ maneuvered his arms the rest of the way in. He continued with a smirk, backing her up toward to the edge of the bed and letting his arms assist in making his point. "I'm on a friendly planet with no Wraith, no Genii, and no comms going off in my ear. I can't think of anything I'd rather do than stay in bed all day with you."

Teyla felt John's hand surreptitiously traveling under her skirt and she put a reluctant stop to it's progress. "As wonderful as that sounds, there are things that need to be done today besides..." John lips started lightly rolling over her neck, making her lose focus for a moment. "John...we must come up for air eventually."

"Who says?" he murmured.

"I do."

John pulled away from his teasing and gave her a self-congratulatory grin. "Is that a dent I'm detecting in that imposing sex drive of yours? It is, isn't it?"

Teyla returned his playful smile and admitted, "I am feeling most satisfied this morning."

"Thank God," John exclaimed with a quick peck on her lips. "Those were some of my best moves. If that didn't do the trick, I didn't have a plan B."

"I am very pleased with plan A. I may ask you to repeat it many times, if you are willing," she said.

"Teyla, I'm the one trying to talk you back into bed, remember?" A low, growl erupted from his stomach, issuing him a stern reminder that there are more important things in life than scratching that particular itch. He sighed, getting the message. "Are you hungry?"

She just raised her eyebrows at him.

"Right. Pregnant. Hungry. They're kind of a package deal, aren't they?" John shifted his focus and addressed Teyla's round midsection. "I guess we've got to feed Mommy, kiddo."

They took care of the necessary evil of putting on shoes and were walking hand in hand when a scream cut through the chilled air. John spun around. Before he ran toward the continuing desperate cries, he yelled, "Teyla, stay here!"

"John!"

"I mean it!"

* * *

Rodney set his bowl down next to them with a clatter that broke through the bubble they found themselves in. "How's the food today? You've barely eaten."

Gathering herself to answer his scrutiny, Jennifer pointed out his complete ineptitude at greeting other human beings. "Good morning to you too, Rodney, and the food is fine. Ronon and I were just talking, that's all."

"Oh, okay," McKay said. "I guess I got here just in time. Can you imagine what I'd be like if I'd missed breakfast? As it is, my blood sugar is wildly out of balance. Thank _you_, by the way...," he directed at Ronon, "...for letting me drink so much last night. My head is killing me."

While Ronon glowered at Rodney, Jennifer's brow furrowed. "Wait, wait. What time is it, anyway?"

Rodney glanced at his watch, set for Atlantis time. He had to approximate for the time difference in his head and landed on, "It's 10:30-ish. Why?"

Shaking her head, she replied, "Mason..."

"What about him?" Ronon asked gruffly.

"He was supposed to meet up with me. About half an hour ago."

"You two have been spending a lot of time together lately," McKay said.

"It's not what you think, Rodney." Jennifer eyed Ronon, who seemed to be getting tense.

"Are you sure?" he kept on. "Because, I think he has the hots for you and I think you..."

Keller told him, "We're just friends and he's my patient."

"Please. Everybody's your patient at one time or another. It's one of the benefits of being one of the few real doctors in the entire galaxy. You'll always have plenty of business."

"Well, if you ask me business could stand to be a little slower," she said. She craned her neck around, searching for some sign of him. "Have you seen him this morning, McKay? At all?"

Across from her, Ronon went rigid and honed in on something.

"No, not yet," Rodney answered her, not paying attention to the shift in mood. "He's probably still sleeping it off. I would be too, if I didn't have to eat regularly. I'm hypoglycemic. It's very important..."

"Mason wasn't drinking last night. He knows better," Jennifer reminded him. All of a sudden, she had gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Quiet," Ronon barked. When the chatter ceased, they could hear it, too. Behind all the noise, there was a high-pitched whine that hadn't been there a moment ago.

"What is that?" Rodney asked quietly. "It sounds like..."

"...crying," Jennifer finished. Under her breath, she said, "Oh, my God!"

Without hesitation, Dr. Keller bolted from her chair and ran outside into the blinding snow. Ronon was on her heels, leaving Dr. McKay confounded and wondering what he had missed. He left his oh-so-important breakfast behind and followed behind as quickly as he could.

* * *

She tried to be patient. She really did. Helia had reminded her at breakfast that the Lanteans were here as their guests and it would be rude to disturb them while they rested. Setisse dutifully went about her chores, feeding the chickens and gathering the soiled clothing from the other children in need of a wash. But when that was done, she got bored. Jinto, often her playmate and big brother in many ways, was too busy with his own tasks.

She played with her dolls, Sherry and Cox, named for Sheryl Greer, an anthropologist in Atlantis who'd taken an interest in the Athosians and Dr. Wilcox, the psychologist who she had been seeing to help her deal with the loss of her parents. The toy versions of them were far less serious than their human counterparts, but they weren't any fun this morning. Setisse wanted Mason.

Mason had been the first person from Atlantis she'd ever talked to. He'd appeared in her prison cell and, like some mythical hero, helped to save her from the bad people who had stolen her mother and father. He was the one to put her on the jumper that took her to safety in the great city of the Ancestors. He often told her that he wasn't anybody's hero, but he was to her.

Careful to avoid Helia's ever watchful eye, Setisse stole away toward the strange Lantean tents. She crept to each one in their turn, not entirely sure which one was the right one. One after another, she would unzip the doors just far enough to get a peek inside and every time there was no one inside. There were empty cots and half-full duffel bags. There were even a few Lantean devices and some weapons, but she didn't feel any temptation to fiddle with them. She would be in enough trouble if she was caught here without permission as it was.

In the tent furthest away from the camp, she found him. Mason's cot was placed directly across from the door and he lay facing it. Setisse held her breath for a moment, afraid to wake him. She hesitated, questioning the wisdom in what she was doing. He looked so tired. What if he got mad? He'd never been cross with her before and she didn't ever want him to be. Ultimately, her desire to play overcame her fear.

"Masy?" she whispered, staying outside. She called to him several times without so much as a twitch from him, before she got braver. Setisse unzipped the door the rest of the way and tip-toed inside. She reached tentatively for his right hand which hung loosely over the side of the cot.

With a feather light touch of her fingers, she said in her soft voice, "Masy...I think breakfast might be over, but if you hurry you might still be able to get some. It's oat mash. Jol puts honey in it. It's supposed to be a secret, but she told me. You can't tell her I told you. She might get mad." She loved Jol's oat mash. She was sure that would have stirred him, but he remained exactly as he was.

"Masy?"

She studied the lines of his face and grew uneasy. It wasn't what she was seeing so much as what she wasn't. He wasn't moving. At all. Panic began to grip her young heart. In her short lifetime, she had witnessed a lot. Her parents and many of those she loved were dragged away never to be seen again, and those who were became nearly unrecognizable monsters. Not all had died that way, though. Setisse had witnessed death from less extraordinary causes in that cell as well. Sicknesses that should have been easily cured, starvation, infection from wounds sustained resisting—they all took people in front of her. She saw the sinister blue tinge around Mason's lips and on his nails and she began to cry.

"Masy, wake up," she begged him. "Please wake up."

The green in her eyes glistened like polished emeralds under the sheen of tears, racing their way down her cheeks. The man she adored was slipping away from her as so many had before.

"Masy..."

Growing frantic, she screamed as loud as she could out into the cold air. "Help! Someone help me! Masy, wake up!" Her tiny hands desperately gripped his shoulders and shook him as hard as she could. "Masy! Please, please get up! No, no, no...you can't leave! Masy! Someone help me! Help me, please!"

She had to get help. She was only a little girl and there were people here who could help him. The Lanteans were here. They would know what to do. She kept screaming for help as she tore outside. The shifting of the darker lights in the tent to the staggering white nearly stole her sight, but there was a fast-moving shadow running straight for her. When she got closer, she could make out it was the Colonel. Teyla's colonel.

Before reaching him, she was already pleading for help. "Help me! I went to get Masy. I just wanted to play, but he won't wake up!" She slammed into his legs and he lifted her into his arms. Through her panic, she instantly felt safer when he spoke to her.

Taking her gently by the chin, he said quickly, "Okay, sweetie. I can't understand you. Look at me and tell me what's wrong."

She took a deep breath and tried to speak clearly even though the second she started, her chest began to spasm again. "Masy! He won't...wake up! He's just...laying there and he won't wake up!"

The colonel set her on her feet, took her by the arms, and told her very specifically, "I'm gonna go help Mason but I need you to be brave for me, okay? I need you go find Dr. Keller, right now. Do you understand me?"

Setisse nodded rapidly.

"Good girl. Now, run," he ordered.

She ran as fast as she could.


	9. Goodbyes

**Chapter 9 – Goodbyes**

Having moved Mason from his side onto his back, John's index and middle fingers pressed into his neck, searching for a pulse. He waited and noted the marine's colorless pallor. Sheppard felt a faint push against his fingers and he frowned. It was barely a blip on the radar and there was no indication he was breathing. Mason was deadly still. John laid his ear to his chest, checking for the slightest sound.

Hearing nothing, Sheppard urged him firmly, "Come on, Capshaw. Give me something!"

As if he could hear his commanding officer's orders, Mason's chest gave a slight, labored rattle. The action was so insignificant that had John not been directly on top of it, it might have gone by unnoticed.

"Not good enough, Sergeant. You're gonna have to do better than that," he said, while he weighed his options.

If Capshaw had been shot, he would've known exactly what to do. He and every other soldier in combat had some limited medical training. It was vital to be able to triage and patch an injury if you or someone you served with was wounded under fire. He had put it to use more times than he cared to remember. It kept people alive long enough to get them the real help they needed, which was exactly what John had to do in this case. Although this was not a scenario he felt remotely equipped to handle, as the only one there he had the job of keeping Mason alive until Dr. Keller got there and he had every intention of doing so.

His heart was still beating for the time being, so John concentrated on Capshaw's air flow problem. Badgering him into breathing normally didn't really seem like the best idea. Mason needed oxygen and the make-shift infirmary wasn't far. He could make a run for it. He despised the prospect of leaving his teammate alone and slowly suffocating, but it didn't seem he had a choice.

Gearing up, he gave Mason a stiff pat on the arm. "I'll be right back. Just...don't go anywhere."

He hurtled toward his goal and once he arrived, John scanned the room and realized he had no idea where to look. He listened to his heartbeat counting the precious seconds ticking by, as he began to rifle through the doctor's equipment. She had a portable oxygen machine in here somewhere. He knew she did. Unfortunately, she also had everything else and he wasn't sure where she had it stashed. Without the luxury of time, John hurriedly began pulling the big, black bags Keller had brought. His hands dug through them furiously.

"Come on. Come on," he muttered, watching piles of things—bandages, ointments, sealed syringes, medical tape, gauze, medications by the dozens—slide across his arms. All of them useful in their own way, but none of them what he needed.

"John, what is going on?" Teyla questioned him from where she stood in the door.

His focus snapped from his goal to her. "I thought I told you to stay put!"

"As you said yourself, there are no threats here. I have no need to hide. Now, tell me what is wrong!"

He pursed his lips. Thump, thump, his heart reminded him. Tick, tock. He didn't have time for this and she'd made her point. The only person in danger right now was Mason. "Capshaw's in trouble. Do you know where Keller keeps the portable oxygen?"

Teyla didn't hesitate. She got down on her knees and slid out a bag that was stored directly beneath the cot she had lain on just yesterday. "If Jennifer has truly made this place as she has the infirmary on Atlantis, this is where it should be."

After only a second of fishing through the contents, she pulled out a small, rectangular machine. "I believe this is it."

"Yeah," he said. He stood and, taking it from Teyla, tucked it into the crook of his arm. She handed him a package containing the essential tubing and mask set that were stored with the machine.

"Go, John."

He sped back toward Mason's tent as fast as his legs could carry him. The entire way, worry dogged his every stride. What if he hadn't been fast enough? He hoped he had done the right thing by sending that kid after Keller, because oxygen alone wasn't going to be enough to bring Mason around and he didn't know what else to do.

* * *

"Why is it that when the screaming starts, we're always the ones running toward it?" McKay yelled at them, bringing up the rear. The scientist was doing an admirable job attempting to keep up, but Jennifer and Ronon continued to outpace him.

Dr. Keller didn't hear the comment. She had already spotted Setisse darting toward her with tears in her eyes, all but confirming what she feared. She had seen the warning signs of an overdose last night and did nothing to stop it. He must have been gradually deteriorating all night.

She reached the little girl, got down on her knees, and questioned her quickly, "Is it Mason?"

Setisse verified her suspicions with a frenzied nod. The way her chin was screwed up, Jennifer doubted she would be able to say much so for expediency's sake, she stuck with things that could be answered with a yes or no. "Is he talking?"

She shook her head.

"Is he awake at all? Can he open his eyes?"

"No...," Setisse cried, losing her effort at composure. Her words poured out, barely coherent. "The Colonel. He went there. He said he would help."

"Col. Sheppard's there?"

"Yes..."

Maintaining her professional attitude at all times, Jennifer said, "It's okay, Setisse. You've done a great job."

At her back, Ronon said, "What can I do?"

"I have to get to him, now," Jennifer told him. Keeping her voice calm and her expression a plastic picture of calm control, she tried her best to communicate the urgency of the situation to Ronon without scaring the little girl further. "Rodney, would you see that she gets to someone who can take care of her? Helia...She can take her. Ronon, I need you to come with me."

* * *

The oxygen machine hummed next to him, pumping air through the mask and into Mason's system. What little it could, anyway. All the oxygen in the world wasn't going to help if his lungs weren't up to the task of breathing it in.

Forced by her present condition to move much slower than she would have liked, Teyla caught up to him about the time he was seriously reconsidering the badgering plan. Naturally, she asked him what had happened. She was already very aware of Mason's ongoing struggle to manage his chronic pain issues. Teyla had come to his aid during one of his toughest episodes, that had brought the full scope of his situation to light in the first place. John brought her up to speed with as much as he knew. She suggested trying something the Athosians often did. It was thought to aid in the healing process. She didn't know if it would help in this case, but he told her it wouldn't hurt to try. Anything was better than sitting around and watching him die.

John watched her settle down on the bed next to him and lean over. She carefully pulled the collar of his shirt taut to the side, exposing his left shoulder and collarbone. His good side, John noted. Capshaw's right shoulder was heavily scarred and it ran across his chest in a jagged, diagonal line all the way to the ribs on his other side. A souvenir from the Jaffa he'd never be able to shake, no matter how well conditioned he pushed himself into being. Teyla's fingers measured out about an inch below the collarbone and John watched her press down.

"Pressure points?"

She nodded. "It opens the lungs and hopefully, it will encourage him to breathe deeper."

"Let's hope so."

"Let us hope Dr. Keller arrives soon," she said.

"She'll be here," John stated.

In reality, it had only been minutes since their morning was unexpectedly shattered, but it felt like hours. John watched Teyla working and he thought he could see a difference. Every breath Mason took still scared the hell out of him, though because they were spaced so far apart. He worried that each one had been the last until another would come, looking slightly deeper than the pathetic attempts of earlier.

Sheppard nearly left Teyla to it and went after Keller himself, when Jennifer showed up with an armful of supplies and Ronon right behind carrying more.

"Talk to me, Colonel," the doctor ordered, laying out what she had brought with unnatural speed. She took her portable scanner from Ronon while he spoke and took in the readings.

"His pulse is weak. He's barely breathing. We put on the oxygen, for all the good it did."

"You did the right thing, Colonel. That little bit probably kept him from going into full cardiac arrest," she said, interpreting what she was seeing. Dr. Keller handed the scanner back to Ronon and went to work. With a helping hand from John, Teyla stood up and the pair stood out of the way.

"Ronon, lift his sleeve and hold that scanner right over his arm."

Jennifer held a saline bag and IV tubing in one hand and readied a needle at the bend in Mason's arm. "Now, if I can just find a vein..." Jennifer mumbled to herself, studying the scanner monitor intently.

The colonel looked down at his teammate's arm where Keller was aiming. It was riddled with small, dotted scars where countless needles had been before. John had more than a few of those on his arms as well, but he hadn't ever seen anything to compare with that. He'd been kept in the loop over the last six months of his treatments, but he was getting a whole new perspective on how hard it all must be on him and not just physically. Capshaw wasn't one to talk about it, but from his point of view, John thought if he'd been pulling double duty as a soldier in the military and as a medical guinea pig, he would have shot someone long ago.

Finding what she was searching for, Keller pushed the needle through his skin. Without missing another beat, she pulled out a tiny bottle of clear medicine and stuck a hypodermic needle through the top, filling it up.

"What is that?" John asked.

Not pausing for a moment, Jennifer spoke. "Naloxone hydrochloride. It's an antagonist to the meds Sgt. Capshaw has been on. His body's overloaded and the meds are depressing his respiratory system. That's why he can't breathe properly and his heart can't compensate for the loss anymore. This should neutralize the active agents in his meds."

"So, it's an antidote?"

"Basically," she answered. As she pushed the medicine into the IV, John had a bad feeling it wasn't going to be nearly that simple.

"How long will it take?" Ronon asked.

"We should start seeing results any minute now," the doctor said without taking her eyes off her patient. "Come on, Mason..."

John felt Teyla squeeze his hand as they all waited anxiously for something to happen.

Progress came slowly, but it came. The stilted, creeping breaths gave way to something still lethargic, but smoother and more regular. Jennifer watched his heart rate steadily climb and let out a disappointed sigh, despite the improvement.

"He's going to need another dose, Colonel," she said, clearly unhappy with having to do so.

"What's the problem?" asked Ronon.

"I was hoping this would be enough. The more of this I give him, the worse it's going to be," she answered cryptically. "We should move him to the infirmary first. Once he wakes up, I'm probably going to need the room."

John asked with Teyla's hand still tucked into his, "Should we be talking about taking him back to Atlantis?"

"I don't know, yet. I'm pretty well set up here, but it's a distinct possibility. I'd like to at least get him stabilized here first and then, it'll be up to him how this goes."

"Could you be more specific, doc?"

"I'd rather not at the moment, Colonel," she said with a nervous sidelong glance at Ronon.

"Dr. Keller, if one of my people is up a creek, I need to know," John insisted. "And if I need have my team start packing up, I need to know."

Jennifer bit her lower lip. "Colonel, the naloxone is currently saving his life. But, in doing so, it's stripping his system of every shred of medication. Mason has an extremely high tolerance to this stuff and...there are going to be consequences to flushing it all out at once. He's going to be in pain again, and he's going get flung head first into withdrawal."

Ronon visibly blanched and the doctor sent him a silent apology. "The naloxone will eventually wear off and most of the symptoms will dissipate with it, but...there's no way to know how long it will take."

John clenched his jaw and nodded. His hand tightened around Teyla's. "Sounds to me like we need to start packing then. Ronon, let's get Capshaw squared away, then we'll grab McKay and get it done."

* * *

Mason was aware long before he opened his eyes. He could feel the sweat permeating his skin, soaking into his shirt. His stomach was doing somersaults and the old fire seared it's way along the path etched in his chest. He wanted to crawl back into the darkness and stay there, but his body had stopped listening to what he wanted a long time ago. He didn't know why he thought now would be any different. His blue eyes, inflamed and red, flitted around the room. His whereabouts didn't match up with his memory. He reached a quaking hand up and yanked away the oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose. Jennifer appeared in his field of vision only to replace it right where it had been.

"Welcome back," she said.

"Jennifer..."

"Just take it easy, Mason."

He didn't feel as though he had any choice in that matter. The slightest movement sent his stomach hurtling through an intestinal minefield. He asked her through the plastic mask and gritted teeth, "It happened, didn't it?"

She said sadly, "Yeah. I'm afraid so."

"Bad?"

She nodded. "You almost died."

Nausea overwhelmed him. He jerked the oxygen mask away and tossed it across the spacious tent. He rolled to the side, enduring the white hot pain from the movement, and vomited into a bucket, conveniently placed exactly where he needed it. Every time his stomach would spasm, he smothered the overwhelming instinct to shout in pain. He felt Jennifer's hand and, while her soft skin rubbing his back felt good, he wished more than anything she wasn't there. He wanted to be left alone. He didn't want anyone to see him like this, much less her. When the torture session ceased, Mason returned to his back and felt unwanted tears escape and roll down his cheeks. He was so tired. So tired of all of it. He closed his eyes, wanting to simply disappear.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly.

Mason looked at her and said, "Maybe...maybe, you should've just let me go."

Jennifer slammed her eyes shut in utter shock. A taking a few seconds to recover, she stammered, "I...I can't even...That has to be...the dumbest, most insensitive thing you have ever said!"

"Maybe," he acknowledged. He probably wasn't in the most rational or unbiased state at the moment, but he believed in confronting the truth of things, even when that truth was a hard one to face. "Maybe, you don't want to admit that I have a point."

"No. What you've got is a truckload of nothing, Mason," she berated him. Her voice suddenly softened and she added, "I know you're hurting in just about every way a human being can hurt right now, but it isn't going to last forever."

"That's easy for you to say, Jennifer."

"I don't ever want to hear you talking like that again. If you'd seen that little girl's face, you'd be singing a different tune right now."

He stopped his staring at the ceiling and faced her. "What are you talking about?"

"Setisse."

"What did you...? What did you say to her?" he raised his voice and glared at her.

"She's the one that found you."

He lifted his leg and brought it down in a solid, fierce kick against the bed. "Damn it!"

He had always had a soft spot for that girl, right from the beginning. So when he and the others had returned to Atlantis from their harrowing side trip on Earth, he had gotten a call from Dr. Wilcox and hadn't hesitated to agree to his request. A form of PTSD, he'd called it. While Setisse had been in the thick of her imprisonment with the Athosians, she suppressed her reactions admirably and far beyond what anyone could have expected from a child her age. It wasn't until she reached the safety of Atlantis that the trauma of the whole ordeal came to the surface. She was having nightmares. She had stopped speaking to everyone, even Jinto. Mason had been asked to be a friendly face, a soft place for her to fall, and he'd been happy to help. Eager, even. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something about her made everything else easier. And for some reason he couldn't fathom, she seemed to feel that way about him, too.

"Is she okay?"

Jennifer sighed. "No, she's not."

"I need to see her," he asserted. He bore his body's protests and sat upright. "I need to tell her I'm okay."

"You're not okay, Mason," Jennifer argued. She pushed against his shoulders attempting to get him to lie back down with no success. "Setisse is with Helia and we're getting ready to take you back to Atlantis."

"Oh no, you don't. You get her in here, Jennifer," he demanded.

Dr. Keller dug in her heels. "Do you honestly it will help her to see you like this?"

"With how she last saw me, it's a step up!" he pointed out. He pleaded with her. "Look, you can help me with this. I know you can. I can hold it together for a few minutes. If you'll just help me get cleaned up a little, I can make it right. Setisse has been through enough. I'm not going to be one more thing screwing her up!"

"Alright," she agreed. "I'll do it. But only a few minutes. No more. Are we clear?"

He nodded. He finally acquiesced to her nudges and laid back down. He was feeling sick again and took a few deep breaths. A few minutes was being optimistic, but he would have to manage.

* * *

After carrying a still-unconscious Mason into Keller's domain, they immediately set about breaking camp. John, Teyla, Ronon, and Rodney all worked together without a lot of discussion. Or any, for that matter. John watched while Ronon eyeballed the tent with a scowl. While he didn't know for himself what was going on in the Satedan's head, he could imagine. He was just as concerned about Mason as Ronon was, but Ronon was closer to the marine on a personal level than he had ever gotten. On top of that, Ronon had been to that hell himself and had a far better understanding of what Mason was going through than he ever could.

His arms loaded with Capshaw's cot and sleeping bag, John walked them to the jumper. He shook his head in disbelief. He couldn't accept that this was happening. Not now. Teyla followed closely behind him, carrying a couple of half-empty duffel bags. Once inside the jumper where they'd finally managed to make peace with each other last night, he opened the storage pods in the sides and started putting things away.

"Here," he said, taking the duffels from her. Until then, they hadn't shared a word and the oppressive silence was getting to him. "I don't suppose it would make a difference if I asked you to pack your things and come with us?"

She looked at him with a deep chasm of regret on her face. "No, it would not. I cannot leave, yet. My people need me."

John nodded. He wanted to be clear with her, but he didn't want to descend into another argument, so he kept things very cool and calm. "I still don't like it, Teyla. On that subject, nothing's changed. I don't like the idea of you being here without a doctor around. I want you to come home with me."

"Soon, John. I promise," she said. "Winter is not far off and my people must make use of every hand and every second we have before the snows come in and we can no longer keep working."

"Teyla..." John's need to be with her and with his child warred with his duty to his team. "I'm going to stay behind."

"Sgt. Capshaw needs you to take him to Atlantis."

"I need to be here to take care of you. McKay can fly them back," he suggested, though the idea of leaving his team to deal with things on their own wasn't sitting well at all.

"No, no, no, no..." Rodney said from the ramp. He held the folded remains of his tent in his arms. "McKay's not a pilot. McKay isn't flying anything."

"McKay's talking about himself in the third person again," John pointed out. "You've flown a jumper through an asteroid belt, Rodney. Compared to that, this is nothing. All you'd have to do is fly her in a straight line to the gate. Autopilot will take care of the rest."

"See...the straight line thing? I never did get the hang of that," Rodney argued as John took the tent from him and stowed it.

"Rodney, would you mind leaving us for a moment? I would like to speak with John alone, please," Teyla requested politely.

Dr. McKay quickly made himself scarce and she turned her attention onto him again. "I know what you're gonna say, Teyla, but it's no use. I'm staying."

"You are going to Atlantis, John."

"Teyla, I made a promise. I told you I wouldn't leave without you and I intend to make good on it."

"And every moment you spent here, you would be waiting and wondering what was happening in the city," she said. "I know you, John. You can no more abandon your people, than I can mine. It's part of who you are and it is a part of why I love you so much. I cannot hold you to a promise you could never keep."

He took her hand and pulled her close. "Teyla, you are my people. You and our baby. I belong where you are. It's my job to keep you safe."

"We are safe, John, as safe as we ever may be. The ultrasound says that I am fine and as long as I am careful, there is no reason for us to fear right now."

He shook his head. He couldn't accept that. Things could change on a dime. They always did. If something happened while he was away from her, he'd never be able to forgive himself. "The only way I'm leaving this planet is if you're coming with me."

Teyla smiled, but it was tarnished by the sadness in her eyes. "I am the leader of this world, Colonel Sheppard. Do not force me to order you away."

"You wouldn't," he joked, but he was as emotionally jumbled as she was. Behind the grin, he was crushed knowing this was a battle he would lose.

"You cannot protect us from everything, John."

"I can try."

"I do not doubt that you would."

She buried her head against him. He held onto her tightly. Again, he was flooded with disbelief that they were saying goodbye again so soon. Her lips reached up for his and kissed him deeply.

"You may make me another promise, if you wish. One that is in your power to keep."

"Anything."

"Promise me to return as soon as you can."

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "I thought you were going to ask for something hard."

* * *

"Col. Sheppard is about ready to go and Teyla has her right outside," Dr. Keller said, helping him sit up. She ran a cold, damp washcloth over Mason's face, then quickly dried him off. She watched as he took some cleansing breaths, gathering his strength and willing the trembling in his hands to go away. It occurred to her that he looked gray. She asked him again, "Are you sure you're up for this?"

He nodded, probably unable to spare the energy for proper response.

"Okay," she said, still doubting how wise this was. It would do Setisse good to see that he was getting better, but Jennifer worried whether Mason would make it through this. She didn't think Setisse seeing him in that state would help anything.

The doctor slipped outside and, taking one look at the nervous little girl, said, "Thanks, Teyla."

Jennifer knelt down and told Setisse, "Do you remember what we talked about?"

The five year-old said, "Yes."

"Mason's feeling much better, but he's still a bit sick. So you have to be extra, extra gentle with him, okay?"

Satisfied for the moment, Dr. Keller led Setisse inside by the hand. Mason had been staring at the floor, but lifted his head as they entered.

He pasted on a smile and greeted the girl weakly, "Hey..."

Setisse let go of Jennifer's hand and stood at Mason's knees. "Masy?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you still sick?" she asked anxiously.

"Yeah," he said apologetically. "But, don't you worry. Dr. Keller, here, is gonna fix me right up."

Jennifer saw tears welling up in Setisse's eyes and Mason said, "Oh, hey! Don't do that, honey. Don't do that."

He reached out for her and Setisse, forgetting the advice Jennifer had supplied her with, dove into Mason's arms and wrapped herself around his neck. Keller nearly pulled her off of him, when she saw the pain wrench it's way across his features and his fists balled up. He recovered quick enough to wave her off, though, and she stayed back.

"It's okay. It's okay," he whispered as she sobbed into him. "I'm sorry I scared you. I really am."

Jennifer watched the pair. Mason was so good with her, she found herself envious. She rarely got to see this side of him. She was in the unlucky position in his life as his doctor, that more often than not, she bore witness to his worst moments. They were friends, but in some ways, they were closer than most friends ever get to be. She knew every personal detail about him there was to know and she was usually the one on the front lines when he blew a fuse. Now, she had the unenviable task of seeing him through this as well.

Mason finally got Setisse to calm down enough to make eye contact with her again. "Look. I have to go back to Atlantis for a while."

"Why?" Setisse asked, wiping her tears away.

"I have some things I need to take care of and then, I have to get back to my job."

"You will come back, won't you?"

"Yeah, I'm coming back. I still owe you that candy bar, remember?" he managed with a smile.

"I'll miss you."

"Back at ya," he said. He gave her a tentative, but heartfelt hug goodbye. "I mean it, no more worrying. I'm gonna be fine. I'm gonna be just fine."

Dr. Keller led the little girl out to Teyla and said her own goodbyes to her friend. She missed having Teyla around Atlantis. Sometimes, she needed a female ear to talk into. There are things she could never talk about with the guys. Especially certain ones.

She quietly went inside to help Mason get settled in the jumper and stood still. She walked in on him wiping his eyes.

Knowing he'd been caught, Mason turned to her. "Jennifer, I'm asking you as a friend. For her sake if not mine, please...Don't make a liar out of me."

The hint of despair and desperation in his voice was what really threw her. He was a fighter. Even at his worst, Mason had always responded with grit and stubbornly digging in his heels. That man wasn't the one sitting in front of her. Jennifer was starting to wonder if he really meant what he'd said earlier about letting him die. To her horror, somewhere in her heart, a small voice told her that he did.

"I won't. I promise."

* * *

Thanks so much for all the feedback and reviews that have been sent. I can't say how much I appreciate them!


	10. Life on Two Fronts

Author's Notes: Hope you enjoy because this is about the fortieth incarnation of this I've written. No exaggeration. That's why it took so very, very long and I apologize for the wait. I feel like I've been in a prizefight and got my behind handed to me. But, on the bright side—LONG chapter, almost two in one! And I've got a heck of a lot of material already written for the next chapter out of this great, heaping pile of cut stuff. Hopefully things go smoother next time! A big thanks to jeyla4ever for her passionate opinions! They are much appreciated! Be sure to leave me a review and let me know what you think!

**Chapter 10 – Life on Two Fronts**

"It's a pretty hefty list, sir," Major Lorne informed him.

Sitting at his desk, John took the sheet of paper Evan offered him. He glanced at the sheer length of the list of volunteers.

"With this many hands, we could have the Athosians set up by sundown," the major commented.

"Yeah," John acknowledged. The number of people who'd signed up to help out with the construction efforts surprised him. Days off were a hard thing to come by and, that so many were willing to give up their time to help out Teyla's people, it reminded John why he was so honored to be working with all of them.

"We'd also be making Atlantis a glorified ghost town," he pointed out. "Between the crews we've got setting up the new Alpha Site and this...there won't be anyone left to do the unimportant things. Keeping an eye on the Wraith, for example. When Woolsey signed off on this, I don't think that's exactly what he had in mind."

Lorne chuckled and handed Col. Sheppard a second sheet from the stack he held in his lap. "I've taken the liberty of cutting things down already, sir." While John perused his 2IC's handiwork, Evan explained, "I figured we could only fit so many in a jumper anyway, so I started grouping them up into shifts according to what works best for everyone's schedules."

John bobbed his head in approval. "Nice work, Major. Somebody should really think about putting you in for a promotion."

"Interesting idea, sir," Evan said, trying not to give anything away in his expression. "Do you know who I could talk to about that?"

John shrugged, feigning ignorance. "I'll ask around and see what I can come up with."

"Yes, sir."

Col. Sheppard continued to scan through the names. Not surprisingly, he knew almost all of them. Having been here since the beginning, John knew almost everyone. Some better than others, obviously, but they all fell under his protection and he tried to at least learn everyone's names.

John stopped on a familiar one, buried among the dozens of other. "You too, Lorne?" He watched Evan begin to squirm in his chair and if he didn't know any better, he'd say his XO was starting to blush. "Who is she?"

Evan answered sheepishly. "Jessa."

John raised his eyebrows. "Shy Jessa?"

Lorne said with a smile, "She's not as shy as you might think."

"Five months without a word constitutes shy in my book, Major. But, I guess she was just waiting for someone more interesting to talk to."

"Yes, sir."

John crooked his eyebrow and decided to let the friendly jab slide. It was actually good to know he wasn't the only with ulterior motives to help out the Athosians. While it certainly wasn't the sole reason he'd made these arrangements, he had to admit there was a big part of him that was doing it strictly for selfish reasons. The sooner the construction was finished at the Athosian settlement, the sooner Teyla would feel more comfortable about coming home. For that, they needed extra hands and as a generous side benefit, while the work was being done, he could be there for her. See her. Help her. They may not be able to be together in the full sense, the way he wanted, but anything was preferable to the distance. He looked to the future with eagerness. In the wake of their short coming together, John had finally gone back to sleeping in his own bed instead of haunting the couch, avoiding the disagreeable sensation of feeling like an overgrown pretzel in the morning. Still, he would sleep better when she was there with him, by his side where she belonged. Where she had always belonged. Enticingly warm, soft, deliciously sweet, and lying close enough for him to reach out and pull her into his embrace.

"I'll contact Teyla and let her know the timetable we're looking at. I'd like to get the first group out in..." John glanced at his watch and considered the Athosian equivalent, "...two hours. If you wouldn't mind coordinating the people on this end, Major? I have a stop to make and then I'll see that the jumper's loaded and ready to move."

"Consider it done," Evan told him. Curious, he added. "How is Teyla, by the way? I meant to ask earlier, but with Capshaw and everything else, it didn't really seem like the right time."

Teyla had spent a brief, but harrowing few weeks on Lorne's team before she found out she was pregnant. He'd really enjoyed getting the opportunity to work more closely with her and their already easy friendship grew closer.

With a pensive smile and an aura of pride, John said, "She's good. Really good. Baby's kicking up a storm."

"That's great, sir. I'm sure you'll be glad when she gets back," Lorne observed. "I can't imagine what it'd be like to have your, uh...to have someone you care about expecting a baby and being on another planet. Not easy, that's for sure."

"Yeah...well..." John said, not really knowing how to respond. Lorne had essentially summed it up. Not easy was probably the most basic way possible to describe how he felt, but that didn't make it any less a fact.

Maj. Lorne soon excused himself to go about his task of people-herding. John had to get moving as well, but he found himself contemplating Evan's noticeable pause. Ever since his strange, angst-ridden conversation with Rodney, he hadn't really given McKay's rambling and semi-offensive vocabulary choices much thought. But apparently, the physicist wasn't the only one with issues finding the right term to define his connection to Teyla.

Practically everything John thought of technically worked, but seemed to be a wrong fit. Girlfriend was accurate, but profoundly inadequate. Teyla was so much more to him than just another woman he'd been dating for a while. He thought of a laundry list of words that would also fit, but were either too shallow, too crass, too temporary, or too overused to be wasted on someone as special as her, the woman he adored and the mother of his child. They were all too...something.

Not for the first time, one word stood out like a flashing, neon sign. He'd already given it serious thought and it was still very much present in his thoughts. But, it wasn't the right time for that. He didn't harbor any doubts when it came to wanting to spend his life with her and raise his child with her. He cared for Teyla beyond anything he had the capacity to describe. She was what kept him breathing when it seemed nothing else was enough. She had become his life and he wanted to be that for her. However, he did have something to prove. He felt he had a lot to prove to her and to himself that he was ready to be the kind of husband she needed, not the physically and emotionally absent one he'd already been once.

John exhaled and stood up. _One step at a time, John_. First things first. He needed to get her home. He took a final sip of coffee from the cup on his desk and made his way to the infirmary.

It had taken two days for the drug that initially saved Mason's life, but caused his gut-wrenching withdrawal to dissipate and take the accompanying symptoms with it. John had been there to see him through it much as he could, but had had to leave on occasion to make sure his ideas were pushed forward and made a reality. McKay had done his fair share in lending support, but Ronon was having a much harder time with it. It was a hell of a punch in the gut for the Satedan to witness something similar in many ways to what he'd just been through himself from the other side. But John supposed that in the end, it would be something else the comrades-in-arms would have in common.

It was day three since their unexpected return to the city and Dr. Keller was still monitoring his vitals. Sgt. Capshaw sat propped up in the bed, extending his arm out to Rachel Cohen, one of the more friendly nurses on Keller's staff. She also had a light touch with a needle that John and the other frequent fliers appreciated, unlike some of the other nurses that had a tendency to manhandle. She sat by his side working, benignly chatting with him as she went. John could have told her not to bother. Mason wasn't listening. His eyes, sunken in and exhausted, were blankly gazing off at nothing in particular. While blood ran from the thin tube in his arm into vial after vial destined for a centrifuge and scrutiny under a microscope in the lab, he was dull and completely detached from what was being done to him.

Sheppard hung back and waited for Rachel to finish before he sat down.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

Mason peeled his glazed stare back from the emptiness where it had gone and turned to face his CO. "Wanting out of here, sir."

"I can't say I blame you. There's not really much to look at in here, is there?"

"No, sir."

John asked, "Have they been able to give you an idea of when you can go?"

Mason snorted. "Probably as soon as they tattoo 'Property of Atlantis Infirmary' on my ass. Seeing as I've already got a tracking device, I figure that's the next logical step."

John gave a smirk. "Thinking about going AWOL?"

"Absolutely, sir. But...I don't think I'll get far without someone noticing. I am Lab Rat #1 around here."

"A pretty dubious title."

"You said it," Mason agreed with a nod.

John watched Capshaw adjust his position and saw the wince he skillfully tried to smother. Only someone who knew as much about playing through pain as Sheppard would have spotted it and he called him out on it. "How's the pain?"

"I'll live," came Mason's resigned response.

It wasn't what the marine had said that made John look twice at him, but how he had said it. Sheppard heard the anguished sounds that had emanated from Capshaw in the days previous bouncing through his ears. He had tried to suppress them, but when the sickness hit him hard Mason's tormented shouts echoed through the infirmary and likely down the hallway as well. When he remembered Mason thrashing around, desperately and feverishly seeking a refuge, and having to hold him down so he wouldn't inadvertently hurt himself or someone else, John thought he understood why Mason's answer sounded tired and...disappointed.

"Well, I need you out of here soon," John said, trying to hoist the anchor that had just dropped in his stomach. "We've got that 'Call of Duty' tournament coming up and I can't have one of my wing-men drop out."

A small smile crept on the corners of Capshaw's lips. "Did you hear? Radek's got this one."

"What?"

"Yeah, Chelios had to drop out so Zalenka offered to play host this go-round."

John nearly had to pick himself up off the floor, trying to picture the diminutive, intellectual scientist in on one of their more testosterone saturated guys nights. "Does he even own an Xbox?"

Mason shrugged. "I guess so. I wouldn't put it past him to have cobbled one together himself, though. But, Santiago tells me he's a whiz at playing soldier."

John sobered a little at the idea of U.S. Military soldiers losing a war game to a Czech scientist. "When I get back, we may need to grab Ronon and put in some extra practice. Radek, Lorne, Santiago, doesn't matter...they're all going down this time."

"When you get back?"

"Yeah," John said, realizing he hadn't told him yet. "We've got some help organized to get the Athosians set for the winter. I'm gonna be spending a lot of time coming and going down to help out the Athosians for the next while."

Mason nodded, understanding John's need to be with his family. "Sorry I can't go with you, sir."

"You just get yourself squared away," John advised him.

Before leaving for the jumper bay, John dropped by Dr. Keller's office. The door was locked, but he could hear voices inside so he gave it a few firm taps. Carson opened it up for him, and McKay who was on a fantastic rant didn't stop for air while John came in. The door was promptly closed again behind him.

"I'm not an M.D., Carson! Not only are you asking me to play in an area where even I have to admit I have no expertise, but you want me to do it another language? A language that's only capable of being partially translated? Why can't you just wave one of those...Go'auld healing devices over him like we did with Sheppard? I mean, there are plainly geographical issues and you'd need someone with the, uh, genetic marker to actually do it, but..."

"Rodney!" Carson stopped him mid-stream. "The SGC already tried that when Sgt. Capshaw sustained his initial injury. It did a great deal ta help, but there's only so much they're capable of fixing. Everything ya want ta know is all in the file, Rodney."

"Oh," he said, sheepishly. "I suppose I should...read it..."

Jennifer was wearing her most patient, placating smile for the annoyed physicist's benefit. "We came to you first because you're the best, Rodney. If you don't think you can do it..." she paused with a long, purposeful glance to Beckett, "...I'm sure Dr. Zalenka would be happy to help."

"Right," Carson added, raising his eyebrows. He continued on in a flattering vein. "We couldn't impose on ya, Rodney. Your time is far too valuable ta waste on helping out a friend."

"And teammate," Jennifer finished.

"Oh, aye! Teammate," Carson said, taking Keller's hand-off and running with it. Continuing the assault on Rodney's well guarded sense of decency, the Scottish teddy bear prodded him. "Someone who's watched your back for the last six months on countless missions, risked his neck ta bring ya home safe and sound..."

"Remember when that tiger thing had you cornered in a tree?" Jennifer reminded him. "And Mason had to be the bait to give you time to get away?"

"That was one of Sheppard's plans!" Rodney pointed out with an emphatic gesture at John, who was standing back and watching the whole conversation play out with amused interest.

"Well, it was Mason's leg I had to dig the broken off claws out of," Jennifer rebutted.  
Rodney scowled as he caved. "Fine! Enough with the moral tag teaming. I'll...I'll do my best. But don't go expecting miracles!"

"Of course, we will," Carson replied with a grin. He asked John, "Now, what can we do for ya, Colonel?"

John spoke up. "I just wanted to see if we have a game plan for Capshaw in mind before I head out, but now you've got me curious."

"We're working on some alternatives," Jennifer explained. "Carson and I have a few more traditional treatments we're trying to tweak to suit his needs, but it's pretty slow going. It's highly unlikely we'll ever be able to repair the muscle and nerve damage that's the source of the problem, so our main focus is in finding a way to kill the pain."

"Yeah..." John waited for her to keep going. This was all old news to him.

"We have ways of doing that. We could go in a sever the nerve endings along the injury site right now, but it would leave the entire area completely paralyzed and the damage in Mason shoulder and chest...is quite extensive."

John nodded.

"You can see why we can't do that. He'd lose everything, his career, his functionality... He might be able to learn to live with the disability, but..." She pursed her lips. "And unfortunately, where we currently are, that's looking like the plan most likely to succeed. It's also the primary reason Mason has been on pain meds for so long. For all their negatives, they at least allow him to live his life."

"So...where does McKay fit in?"

"There are a number of Ancient devices we've been able to identify from the database that might work," Jennifer said.

"Raging long shots, she meant to say," Rodney cut in.

"The problem is that the database is incomplete. It's chalk full of symbols the linguists can't make heads or tails of, so what information we have is sketchy at best. Some of them, we aren't precisely sure what they do. Some of them appear to have been still in the experimental stages when the Ancients left Atlantis."

"So, given Rodney's insane propensity for experiments,..." John steered her.

"...he's just generously agreed to start running practical tests on them," Jennifer finished.

Carson put in, "If we can determine what these devices are doin' from an engineering standpoint, we can then extrapolate the results we get ta determine what effect they may have on the human body."

"Okay," John said. There were plans and experiments and arm-twisting going on. Good to know. Especially the arm-twisting. Things were happening, but he couldn't help but point out the fly in the ointment. "All this sounds great. Really. But, it also sounds very time consuming. What's Capshaw supposed to do in the meantime?"

Jennifer's face grew serious. "We're still working on that. Like I said, Colonel, we don't really have a lot of options."

John nodded. That part didn't sound so good, but there was nothing he could do about it. They already had the best people possible working on the problem and it was time he moved on.

"Keep me informed, will you?"

"Of course, Colonel," she assented.

* * *

After that, the days ran by and blurred together. John was living a commuter's lifestyle, his two worlds separate but always demanding on his limited time. Every day, when he landed in the Athosian camp, he came with a keen sense of purpose, determined to get as much work completed as possible in the amount of time had before he was forced to call it a day and return his people to Atlantis. When he re-entered the ancient city, the events of the day had inevitably been reported and turned into a stack on his desk, needing to be tended to. It was all made worth his while, though, every time he descended the ramp of the jumper and laid eyes on Teyla. No matter how worn down he was getting or how much he had on his mind, the sight of her never failed to draw a smile.

John sent his shovel into the ground with a labored grunt. He and the other five guys with him were digging a lengthy, but relatively shallow hole to lay down the piping to the river. It was taxing work, but at least they were getting to it before the ground froze and it was rendered effectively impossible. They'd been at it for a while though, and John's arms were feeling the strain. Even in the chilly air, his brow dripped with sweat and his men were all in a similar state.

A short time ago, this planet—Lairius, it was called according to the Ancient's database—had been an empty planet whose original inhabitants were culled into extinction nearly ten thousand years ago. There was no evidence the Wraith had returned since, making this planet as safe as they could ever hope, so long as the Athosians kept their location a strict secret. Partially melted snowfall from the previous night, lay in patches across the ground. The race with a long winter was on and if they were going to get the Athosian set up to ride it out, they needed to hurry. Their goal was to complete construction on the two remaining larger buildings and get running water piped in from the nearby river.

"Martinez, how's it coming?" he shouted toward the nearest building.

"We're good, Colonel!"

Lt. Martinez and his cohorts were getting the plumbing taken care of on the occupied end of things as John and the rest continued in the direction of the river.

"Let's give it another ten and then we'll take a time out!" he yelled.

"Yes, sir!"

John hated that this was a rush job. He wished they had time to properly do the work. They could bring some bigger equipment through the gate, scout out and dig a well, but with the changing of the season breathing down their necks, this would have to do. As he continued the repetitive chore, he lifted his head and peered out across the campsite searching for Teyla. It was hard to find time for the two of them when they were both so caught up in the business of getting things done, so John tried to at least connect with her when he had a break or during a quick meal.

He had other reasons for keeping one eye on her if he could. Besides the enjoyable view, he also had caught her trying to do things which, in his admittedly nervous and biased paternal mindset, he thought might be too much for her in her condition. Part of his zeal to finish the piping stemmed from his seeing her on one his first visits, carrying buckets of water to and from the river. He kept watch so he could step in and do what she needed doing without fraying his nerves and in the process, trying not to aggravate hers.

John pinpointed Teyla as she was heading out on her own toward her tent and followed after her. By the time he got there, Teyla was already laying down. She rested on her side and was pulling her legs upward to where she could curl around her growing belly.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She gave him a patient look and said, "I am fine, John. I am merely..." She paused, taking in a few big breaths and letting her eyes shut for a moment. "I am very tired."

"Is there anything you need? It's getting to be lunchtime. I could run and see if I can grab something from Jol without getting hit," he suggested.

The recent influx of people had the feisty woman in an uproar lately. John had stressed to her that she didn't need to prepare food for everyone. They had brought along plenty of MRE's to avoid this very scenario, but she had intractably insisted that no friend to the Athosians was ever going to eat one of those abnormal, packaged creations on her watch. John wondered if Jol was beginning to regret that decision because she had become rather prickly to be around.

Teyla smiled at the mental picture of John, who had faced all the horrors a life at war had to offer, defending against a flying ladle. "That is alright, John. I will eat later."

As Teyla eyes demanded to be shut once more, John sat down on the bed next to her. His right hand cupped the side her face and his thumb lightly caressed her cheek. She was so exquisitely beautiful.

"Are you sure I can't do anything?"

She peeked out at him and said, "I would like it if you could lie with me for a while. Just until I fall asleep?"

"Sure."

Teyla scooted over to make more room for him and he sidled up against her, leaving his booted feet that were tracked with wet grass and mud, dangling off the side. He felt a little guilty being as sweaty and dirty as he was being so close to her, but if she minded, she didn't say. John slid his left arm under her neck where she rested her head and his right arm encircled her waist. He let his hand stroke her abdomen and she serenely hummed her deep approval. He felt a subtle ripple under his tender touch and he grinned.

"It's naptime, baby," his deep voice directed toward his active son or daughter who hid below.

Without opening her eyes, Teyla smiled too, relishing this rare moment of quiet between them. "I do not sleep the same without you, John."

"Me, too," he agreed. He planted a few affectionate kisses in her hair. Pressed against him, he could feel the tightness in her back and he hated seeing her so tired she could hardly keep her eyes open. Keeping his voice low and moving his right arm between them to massage her back, he told her, "You don't need to work so hard, Teyla. We've got loads of people. We'll pick up the slack. You should take it easy."

"I think, John, you would prefer it if I were to remain locked away in padded cell for the remainder of my pregnancy. Perhaps then, you would be satisfied of my safety," she commented and soon followed it up with a moan of appreciation.

When he took a long moment to playfully consider the idea, she gave him a swift elbow to the ribs. They both laughed and when that subsided, they let the silence of their temporary solitude sink back in. John nuzzled her neck, savoring her scent.

He quietly said, "I'm trying, Teyla. I really am, but I can't help the way I feel."

"I understand your worries, John. I share them," she replied. "And if I felt for a moment that my being here would place our child in danger, I wouldn't hesitate to return to Atlantis." Teyla took his hand in hers and replaced it in the spot where their little one kicked inside her. "This baby is a gift to me, John. More special to me than any...I cannot explain it. When I lost my first child, I believed it would kill me and then, you were there. You, a man I have loved for so long, gave me the chance to be a mother. The chance to have the family I have always dreamed of finding, but never dared to hope that I would. It is a heavy burden to place on such small shoulders and if I must do less than I am accustomed for a time in order to protect our family, then so be it. I am very mindful of what my body tells me I can handle, John. Please, know that I will do everything in my power to keep this child...our child...safe."

John adjusted his left arm that lay underneath her head, gently encouraging her to turn from her side to her back, so he could see her properly. Even as she adjusted, their hands remained locked on her belly.

"I know you will. But, there is so much out there that we can't control, Teyla. I..." John felt a knot tightening around his throat, remembering that fateful day and the aftermath that had nearly severed their relationship. "I can't stop thinking about...when you fell, I thought I'd lost you and the baby both in a split second. It replays over and over in my head. It happened so fast, Teyla...and I couldn't stop it."

Teyla raised her hand to trace her fingers across his cheek. "John..."

"I took it out on you and I'm so sorry for that, Teyla. You have no idea how much I regret what I said and that I let you go. But, you're wrong about one thing, sweetie. I didn't give you anything. You gave me the gift. This..." his hand tightened around the tiny life they had created together, "...this is something that I never thought I'd have and, that you're the one I get to have it with...? Teyla, I..."

John's words completely failed him, but it didn't matter. Teyla reached around his neck and brought him in to a kiss, in which he tried to communicate just how much she was cherished by him.

Even as her lips pulled back, her fingers continued their hypnotizing, soothing dance across his features. "I love you, John, but we cannot dwell on what _may_ come. As you said, we cannot control everything. All we can do is safeguard what we have to the best of our ability, and hope that whatever happens we are strong enough together to overcome it. We under currently under no threat from the Wraith or anyone else who would wish us harm and my carrying water buckets, or assisting the work efforts in what small ways I am still able, will not hurt our child. I hope you can find some measure of peace with that. More than anything, I pray that our child will be born healthy and into the arms of two parents who love each other."

John nodded against her gentle fingertips. "I do, Teyla. I do love you. So much."

He reached down where she lay against him and kissed her one more time. Without pulling away from her, his mind cut through all the heartfelt sentiment and he chuckled to himself. "I'm sorry. I'm ruining your nap."

A snicker found its way from Teyla. "I may yet manage one, John. After all, you are here. This may turn out to be the best nap I've had in quite some time."

Teyla settled back into his arms and John thought she might have been right. It was only minutes before he felt her gentle breaths even out and begin to slow. He hated to pull away from her, but he had to return to the others. He reminded himself that it was the best thing in the wider sense of things to be with her again in a real way. The faster he and the others finished, there would be that many more nights when he could remain and hold her as long as he wanted.

* * *

John scanned through Maj. Teldy's latest mission report from M86-245. Without removing his eyes from what he was hurriedly reading, he took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. Setting the cup back down, never to be touched again, he plowed his way through the paperwork Woolsey kept insisting was a necessary part of keeping Atlantis afloat. John was pretty sure it was some incredibly advanced Ancient tech keeping the city up, but to each his own, he supposed. Either way, he had to get as much done as he could before returning to Lairius or he'd never hear the end of it.

A tapping at his door drew his attention. Dr. Keller stood in the entrance, looking about as tense as piano wire. _This can't be good_.

"Colonel, I know you're busy but...?"

"Have a seat," he said with an easy motion to the chair across from him.

Before sitting, Jennifer pulled the door closed behind her. She prefaced what she'd really come to talk about a polite question about his unofficial ongoing mission to Lairius.

"How are things coming with the Athosians?"

"We're getting there," he stated. "I'm hoping we can rap this up in a few more days."

"Good," she said, her thoughts clearly somewhere else. "That's...good."

He leaned back slightly in his chair, folded his arms over his chest, and waited for her.

"We need to talk about Sgt. Capshaw," she said tensely.

"What about him?"

"You wanted me to keep you informed," Jennifer sighed. "He's refusing treatment. He won't let anyone near him."

Puzzled, John said, "That doesn't sound like him. What's going on?"

"I told you that Dr. Beckett and I are working as hard as we can to find a better, more permanent solution, but there's no way to know when or if we'll find something. In the meantime, I recommended that we try a new course of meds. I tried talking to him, but he...he balked."

"Well...," John started. "I can't say that I blame him, Doc. You've had him walking a tightrope with those things and he just fell off. In a pretty big way."

"And I completely understand why he would be reluctant to try again, Colonel," she insisted. "Believe me when I say, I am more the aware how much of a toll this is taking on him. Carson, Rodney, and I aren't slowing down on the other options, but, as of this moment, it's the only way to get things back to being manageable. Without pain medication of some kind..."

"...he can't go out in the field. I know," John finished. He couldn't have Capshaw off-world in too much pain to do his job. It could get him or someone else killed.

"I really am trying to do the right by him. If Mason can't perform his duties, it's only a matter of time before he has to be sent home," she unnecessarily reminded him. "He doesn't want that. No matter what he's saying right now, he doesn't."

John pursed his lips. Capshaw had never replaced Teyla, but he had been on his team for over six months. They'd been through a steady stream of strange Pegasus adventures since then and he had managed to make his own place on it. They may not have started out on the best of footing, but the two men had eventually learned to be friends. John stared into the hard truth that if Mason wasn't able to pull his weight any longer, as his CO, he would be the one to have to make the call to send him home.

"What do you need from me?"

"Just talk to him. He'll listen to you," she told him with a hint of desperation in her tone. "I can't seem to get through to him anymore."

Shaking his head, "Doc, it's not my place to be giving medical advice. That's your job. As it is, it sounds like he's made his decision."

"Well, it's the wrong one!" she blurted out.

Momentarily surprised by the strength of her reaction, John came back equally as strong.

"What is it you want me to do? Strap him down so you can shove a needle in his arm? Sgt. Capshaw has been living with this a long time. I hate to play devil's advocate here, but it seems to me, he knows the consequences of his choices even better than you do. We may not like it, but we have to respect his right to make his own decisions. I know you two have gotten...close, but you can't allow your personal feelings to influence your professional judgment."

She stared at him. "It's not my judgment I'm worried about."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She hesitated, but eventually went on quietly. "He...said something on the planet, right after he woke up. I...his state of mind has me a little concerned. With how he's been since all this started, I think a few visits to Dr. Wilcox would be in his best interest."

John frowned at the implications of what she was saying.

"I'll talk to him," he declared.

"And?"

"And...if I think it's warranted, I'll send him to Wilcox," John confirmed with a curt nod. He went on to remind her, "I wouldn't get too worried just yet, Doc. He probably just needs some time to get his head around things. The best thing you can do for Capshaw is find a solution to the problem. If he doesn't want anymore drug treatments, then I suggest you come up with something else. Fast."

After Keller left, John glanced at his watch. He was doing that a lot lately. He days lived and died by the tight schedule he kept. It was currently nudging him toward the jumper bay, but he had another matter that needed attention first.

A transporter ride and a short walk found him at Mason's door. Mason was usually a very put together, almost idealized picture of a soldier. So when the door slid open revealing a disheveled, unshaven man looking an awful lot like Sgt. Capshaw, John was taken aback to say the least.

John took one look at him and said, "Trying out a new look?"

Mason glanced down at his sleeveless white tee and loose jogging pants and smirked. "I suppose."

"Do you mind if I...?"

"Oh...yeah. Sure."

Mason stepped aside and ushered him through the door before it slid shut behind them.

John had only been here a few times. He'd forgotten how spartan Mason liked to keep things. Not that he blamed him. John had kept his old quarters in much the same way before he moved in with Teyla. Mason had his laptop and a few photos next to his bed. One, a photo of him and his mother taken shortly before he joined the SGC, and a couple of candid snapshots of the team and a few of his previous team led by Major Santiago. Beyond that, Mason's guitar sat alone in a corner and the TV, which was currently occupied playing a DVD of John Wayne's "True Grit," rounded out the lot. It was a handy display of the full extent of Mason's sentimentality.

"You turn your radio off? Because I tried to contact you," John said, while Mason turned down the TV.

"Yes, sir. Sorry," he apologized.

"It's fine."

"I guess I figured with my being...and you going off-world it'd be okay," Mason explained. "Speaking of which, aren't you supposed to be...?"

John nodded. "I'm heading out when we're done here."  
"Oh."

"Yeah..." John said.

The two of them stood awkwardly. John, because he was considering the best way to go about this and Mason, because his CO wasn't in the habit of paying social calls when he was meant to be somewhere else entirely.

"I got a visit from Dr. Keller," John began.

Comprehension immediately dawned on Mason. "I'll bet you did, sir."

"You know why I'm here?"

"Pretty sure. Jennifer and I have had a few loud discussions about it."

"You realize you're tying her hands? And maybe mine, too?" John put across. "As it is, I'm gonna have to bench you. Indefinitely. Until this gets resolved one way or another, I'm really sorry but I can't use you."

"I realize that," Mason assured him. "And with all due respect, Jennifer's hands have been tied for a long time. She's just too damn stubborn to admit it."

"Well, there's a lot of that going on around here," John jokingly pointed out.

"Epidemic levels, sir," Mason admitted with a smile.

John hesitated before going on. "She suggested you might benefit from a talk with Dr. Wilcox."

"Is that right?" Mason asked. From his expression, John could see he wasn't all that shocked to hear it.

"What do you think?"

Mason folded his arms, looking suddenly a lot less friendly. The skin around his jaw noticeably tightened as he said, "I think I'm tired and I think Jennifer means well. Sir, this isn't breaking any new ground for me. I've done this before. A lot. I've gone long stretches without meds. I'm fine."

He wasn't entirely satisfied, but John decided to let it be for now. Capshaw did seem off, but he was hoping he'd been right and he just needed a few more days to get himself sorted out. "Just take it easy and try to get some rest, Mason."

"I'd like that, sir. I really would," Capshaw said almost as though he was talking to himself. The way he responded sounded like a normal response to his advice, but something about it smacked of something different and John was left feeling less than sure that he'd done the right thing.

* * *

John stood on top of yet another skeleton of an unfinished roof and briefly wondered if he should have gone into construction instead of the military. It certainly didn't hold the excitement of a jumper or an F-302, but he certainly couldn't knock the view from up here. It was the last roof for them. They'd finished the second of the three buildings two days ago and below Jol was still busy prepping food for them, but now she was making good use of the running water. All this work and going back and forth from place to place was so close to being finished, John could taste it. He could practically taste Teyla as well, spurred on at the idea of finally returning her back to the home they'd made together.

From the ground, Ronon handed him his next round of beams to be hammered into place. Then watched the action-starved warrior spring upward, get a good grip on the beam John was balanced on, and climb up like a monkey climbs through a tree.

"There's a ladder over there," John pointed out to him.

Ronon crouched down and shot him a sly cock of a single eyebrow before picking up a hammer of his own.

John didn't miss the ogling looks Ronon was unaware he was receiving from a few appreciative women on the ground. "Looks like you've got a few admirers."

When Ronon didn't know what he was talking about, John indicated the twittering onlookers below. Ronon just uttered a disinterested, "Huh."

"Not your type?" he inquired.

"Not really," Ronon grumbled.

John slammed a few nails home, thinking to himself. He finally asked, "You dating anyone?"

The Satedan looked up at him. "No. Why?"

"Just curious. I haven't heard talking about anyone, so I just wondered."

Ronon remained stoically silent, but didn't turn away.

"Got your eye on somebody?" John asked.

A barely, perceptible nod was all he got back.

"Anybody I know?"

Ronon's chin contorted in indecision. He eventually mumbled, "I've kind of been thinking. Jennifer...she's kind of different, isn't she?"

John's eyebrows went sky high. This was news to him. "Yeah. You and the doc?"

"It's not..." Ronon said. "I haven't asked her, yet."

"Ronon..." John started uneasily. He didn't really think it was place to interfere, but he didn't want Ronon getting hurt. "I don't know, buddy. I think she might have something going with Capshaw. I don't know anything for sure. They just seem like they've been hanging out a lot and I've been getting that kind of a vibe..."

"She says they're just friends," Ronon answered.

"Oh," John clipped. Still not convinced, he decided it was best to just let it go. "Okay. If that's what she says, then..."

Ronon gave him a silencing look and the two mutually came to an understanding that talking was overrated.

They put their heads down and worked clear through lunchtime. John wasn't taking breaks any longer. With every hand now concentrating on the one remaining project to be finished, their pace sped up exponentially. The base for the roof was completed and they immediately began weather sealing it.

At one point, Jinto called to him and told him that Teyla had been asking for him. Sure in the knowledge that if there had been an emergency, he would have been told, John didn't rush to her side as his natural inclination would have been. Not sure exactly where she was, Jol took a moment—a calm one, rare for her—to point him in the direction of Teyla's tent. As he ambled in that direction and thinking of the time, he figured Teyla had needed another nap. Or he hoped that maybe she was putting her feet up and taking it easy as he'd asked, but that seemed unlikely.

"Teyla?" he spoke out as he approached the tent.

He threw back the flap and paused. Teyla was sitting on her bed. There were two black bags sitting open, partially full. John peered around the room and noticed the change in the interior. The few belongings Teyla had brought to this planet with her were all packed. She was in the process of folding up the first of the blankets on her bed when he had entered.

John felt an electric sense of excitement flood through him. "Teyla, does this mean...?"

She smiled at him. "I have spoken with Halling and made arrangements. And I thank you, John. My people will be safe and comfortable this coming season because of what you've done here."

"Well, I didn't do it just for them," he admitted to her.

"I know," she told him. "But I am no less grateful. It is time I returned to Atlantis, John. To be with you."

He stood still, not knowing whether to trust his ears. He'd been waiting for so long to hear her say those words, he wasn't sure he wasn't dreaming or something. "You're sure?

Puzzled by his reaction, she asked, "Unless you would rather I stayed?"

"No!" he exclaimed, snapping out of his momentary lapse of brain function.

She snickered. "It has been some time since I've been off-world with you, John. Is this how you negotiate with every leader you come across, now? You get what you desire and then, talk them out of it?"

He smirked. "Well...it's not my best method, no. Do you know anybody good at negotiating? I guess I could use some tips."

Teyla set the partially folded blanket on the bed and rose to stand against him. Her hands wandered up and down his arms. She smiled at him with an air of seduction wafting between them, "I may have a tip or two I would be willing to share."

Feeling a definite willingness to share popping up, John cleared his throat. "I'd like that, Teyla. The sharing, I mean..."

Teyla's hands abandoned his arms, slipping toward the warmth beneath his shirt. She touched his skin. The two locked eyes and slowly, their lips drew together as though being pulled by magnets. Fueled by their joy at being able to return home in one another's arms, what began as a playful kiss, soon became a frenzied need. John's tongue danced with hers while he began taking great handfuls of her skirt and lifting them upward. Teyla's hands were occupied as well, working his belt loose and attacking the zipper keeping him contained.

A noise from outside broke through John's fevered and passionate mind. Between heaving breaths and kisses he couldn't seem to stop despite himself, he muttered, "I really shouldn't...be doing... this. I'm technically on duty and..." he moaned as Teyla's questing hands encroached on his manhood and rubbed. Struggling to maintain a thought, he managed, "...I don't think the military commander of Atlantis is...aahhh...supposed to be having quickies with world leaders."

Teyla murmured in a silky voice and continued her unfair persuasions, "We may stop if you wish."

"No...no..." he breathed. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. "...we can't..."

"I would hate to put you in an awkward position, John. Perhaps you are right. We should stop."

John gritted his teeth and he backed her toward the bed. "Teyla, if I'm not inside you in about ten seconds, I'm gonna have a whole other awkward position to worry about."


	11. Between Friends

Author's Notes: Get comfortable. It's a long one!

-As I have said before, I find I can't write out Carson's accent without driving the perfectionist in me completely bonkers, so use your imaginations to fill in the gaps, if you would.

-A few songs to throw at you for this chapter-"Agony" by the Eels, "Buried Beneath" by Red.

- To my biggest cheerleader, jeyla4ever, and nacimynom for your thoughts, thank you!

-Hope you all enjoy!

**Chapter 10 – Between Friends**

In a small part of Teyla's consciousness, she registered the sizzling sound of water coming from the next room. It was a sound she was used to and intimately familiar with. She luxuriated in the warmth and comfort of once again being in the bed she shared with John. It was a far cry from the one she had been sleeping on recently. As she slowly began to awaken, she wondered if perhaps she hadn't been spoiled in her years of living in Atlantis. Despite her love for her people and her sorrow at being apart from them, upon her return she had eagerly discarded the bulky clothing that had been needed in the colder temperatures of Lairius. At six months pregnant, her body was growing increasingly cumbersome almost by the day, and in the temperature controlled environment inside the city, she was able to enjoy the thinner fabrics that flowed off of her and made her condition seem like less of a burden. Not that John had allowed her to enjoy them for long.

A satisfied smile emerged as she peeked out from her eyelids and glanced down at her naked form underneath the silky, soft sheets. Although not especially eager to move, she did consider joining John in the hot shower, another extravagance that she had sorely missed. The decision was taken out of her hands, however, when she heard the water cease.

A few short minutes later, John came into view with only a towel loosely knotted around his waist. Teyla lay still, secretly savoring his muscular chest with it's generous share of hair that her fingers love to play in. She observed him letting the towel drop, setting it on top of the dresser, and reaching for a fresh pair of underwear. She remembered fondly the first time she awoke to John getting ready to leave for the day. In a hotel room on Earth, circumstances had been very different, but she felt no less sure that he was the sight she longed to wake to every morning. They were friends, then. Friends who had just taken a small, but significant step toward something more rarefied and full, but still just friends. With a nostalgic glint in her eye, she recalled that his modesty had been a much higher priority to him back then.

John quickly slipped his dog tags back over his head and retrieved his pants. As he pulled them up into their proper place, his body spun toward the bed and John spotted her shamelessly admiring him.

With a goofy grin, he said, "You Athosians...you talk a good game about harmony and balance, finding true love, and following the demands of your heart, but in the end, you all enjoy a good peep show just like the rest of us."

Teyla laughed at his interesting observation.

"See anything you like?"

"Very much," she answered. "I believe there are few who wouldn't."

John answered with an unusual, almost bashful hint in his voice, "Well, this show's just for you."

"I am relieved to hear it," she said with a smile.

He came over and gave a quick peck on the lips. His freshly shaven face felt smooth and soft against her and his aftershave had always made her a little weak in the knees. To her mild disappointment, he returned to the dresser for his shirt. His hands worked the buttons on his black uniform as he informed her of what was on his agenda.

"I wish I had more time this morning...I already put on some water for your tea, by the way...but, now that I'm working here full-time again, Woolsey's got a heap of so-called 'improvements' he'd like to discuss," he said. "So basically, breakfast is shot and you never know how lunch is gonna go around here. If it's not one thing, it's usually another."

Teyla tried not to look disappointed, but she could see from his reaction that she hadn't succeeded. A small, perhaps irrational, part of her had feared that after living so long on his own here, that he may have learned to live without her. She worried that she wouldn't have a place in his life. After all, for a long time, she had tried to make herself believe he no longer had a place in hers. Was it such a stretch to believe that he may have done the same?

John gave her the briefest of looks. It may have only been an idea passing between the two of them, but she imagined that she could feel his lips grazing her cheek. It felt so real and intimate, it left her breathless. In the moment she was questioning the strength of their connection, it was almost a force in and of itself, reassuring her that it was still there as strong as ever. For that instant, she felt him so keenly, it was almost tangible.

"Teyla, are you okay?" his voice broke through.

Blinking away the heady experience, she reached through the fog to assure him. "Yes, John. I am fine."

"I was thinking while you were away. We never did get to properly christen the kitchen, did we?"

"What did you have in mind?" she asked.

John sat down on the bed next to her and began with his socks and combat boots. With a mild groan, Teyla managed to sit up, pulling the blankets up along with her. John leaned in and lightly brushed her cheek with his fingertips.

"I thought maybe...I could cook us dinner. Just the two of us. We could dig in here, maybe watch a movie, and make a night of it."

Teyla felt a echoed resurgence of the intense feeling of a moment ago. "You can cook?"

"Well..., I'm no Bobby Flay, but I can whip us up a thing or two."

"I'd like that," she breathed.

"Good," he said. His gorgeous face erupted in a wide grin. "It's a date."

He turned back to tying his shoes, and Teyla rested her head on his shoulder. Although the feeling had past, her head was still swimming.

"Got another e-mail from Dave," he told her.

She brought up her head, cautiously. She could see straight again. With a deep breath, she inquired, "How is he? It has been some time since I have heard any news of him."

"He's good," John said. "At least, it sounds that way. Says he's been working on something big, but he's keeping pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing. I think he's just trying to get back at me."

Teyla rolled her eyes. The dynamics between John and Dave Sheppard were infinitely complex. They loved each other as brothers do, but at the same time, they always seemed to be at odds about one thing or another. From what she had observed in other sibling relationships, like Rodney and his sister, Jeannie, Teyla suspected that it was common. But it did make it no less exasperating, at times.

"Mainly though, he wanted to know your opinion on the baby stuff and get any last minute requests you had before he has to get it all delivered to Petersen."

Teyla wrinkled her forehead in thought. John had gotten his hands on a few catalogs for her to use for reference and before she had left the city with her fellow Athosians, she had already made several selections. "I have already chosen a crib, a changing table, infant clothes," Teyla listed.

"I got some toys," he added, smiling to himself. Then, he frowned. "Diapers?"

"Yes, diapers," she confirmed with mild annoyance. That was one of the few items John had had a firm opinion on. She tried to explain to him how cloth diapers worked and attempted to show him how simple they were to fold and sanitize, but he hadn't budged. "Beyond that I do not see that anything else is needed for the nursery."

Fully dressed now and focused on her, his hand took to gently stroking her thigh. Even through the blanket, his soft touch managed to send a thrill up her spine.

"Well, take one last pass through the catalogs to be sure. We just need to get anything else to Dave on the next transmission. The Daedalus will be headed back this way soon and this'll probably be our last chance to get anything from Earth before the baby's born."

"I will."

John leaned in and gave her an amorous kiss. His lips slid across hers as though he was planning on resuming where they have left off last night, but before either of them got too involved and weak in the knees, he pulled back. His face still pressed against hers, he said, "Don't worry so much about just what we need. If you see something you want, even it's completely pointless and impractical, I want you to get it."

She smiled and cupped his cheek. He knew her so well. "I will see what I can do."

They sat together for a few more moments, before John checked his watch and groaned. "I have to go."

"I will see you here for dinner?"

"Dinner," he confirmed. After stealing one last kiss, John sighed. "I missed this, Teyla."

"As did I, John," she said softly. "It is good to be home."

Soon after he left, the teapot on the stove whistled and Teyla, wrapped in a silky bathrobe, took her morning tea onto the balcony to enjoy the magnificent view of the city and the ocean beyond. The morning sun had only just begun to shine, but it lit up the towers in an awe inspiring feast of color. Being able to sit outside in the wind and the salty ocean air, knowing that her people were safe and comfortable, held for her a value beyond measure. She had missed all this, but most of all, she had missed John.

* * *

Mason felt a large, unyielding hand clamp down around his foot. He reacted swiftly to the unsettling sensation of being literally dragged out of sleep—a restless sleep, but sleep nonetheless. His eyes flew open and he sat up as he was been pulled out of bed, reaching for his attacker. But, the burly Satedan only doubled his efforts and Mason wasn't able to put a stop to his momentum. Hopelessly tangled in his sheets, he met the floor with an emphatic thud.

"Ronon..." he grunted, his mind and body still reeling from the sudden shifting of gears. "You...bastard."

"Morning."

Mason peered up at Ronon towering over him. At one time, it would have been an intimidating experience. Ronon Dex was the nightmare of every new addition to the Atlantis expedition, but Mason had left those days behind a long time ago. In the wake of what was no doubt his friend's unique way of bullying him out of his self-imposed isolation, all he could properly muster was halfhearted annoyance.

He reached with his thumb and middle fingers across his face to rub his eyes as he asked, "How did you get in here, anyway?"

"You had McKay let me in so I could grab your gym bag about a month ago."

"So, you felt the need to remind me to change my locks?" He extricated himself from the blankets he was entrapped in. "When did you get back?"

"Late last night," Ronon stated, holding his hand out to Mason. He grasped the offered hand and picked himself up off the floor.

"Mission accomplished?"

"Yep. Athosians are set up and Teyla's back."

"Good," Mason said with a nod. He looked around the room trying to get a feel for the hour, but his inability to sleep properly these days had screwed up his internal clock. "What time is it, anyway?"

"0700."

Mason groan out loud. "Don't you ever sleep?"

Ronon shrugged. "I got bored."

"You got bored? Sleeping?" the marine asked incredulously.

"What? You never do that?"

"No, I'm pretty sure that's just you," Mason replied with a smirk.

Mason plopped himself back onto the bed. He ran his hands through his thick, short blonde hair. He couldn't see the dark lines encircling his eyes, but he could certainly feel them and the insidious, gnawing pain still vibrated from his shoulder and across his chest. "So, what brings you here? You wanna get an early breakfast or hang out or what?"

"Or what."

Mason shook his head, immediately knowing what Ronon was suggesting. "No. No way. Not unless you want me to wind up in a ball on the floor."

"You used to spar all the time without pain killers," Ronon pointed out.

"Yeah, well... There was a point to it, then, and it...it used to be easier," Mason admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know if I can explain it," he tried. "You've been injured. You know how it feels. How much it hurts at first and sometimes you have to keep moving through it, but in time it starts to get easier."

Ronon nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.

"It never ends for me. It hurts all the time. It doesn't get better. It's constant, unrelenting, and lately...worse," he stated. "Maybe, it hasn't. It's probably all in my head. Before, back when nobody knew, at least I could still go off-world. I had to concentrate on keeping up the show for everybody. I don't have that anymore to distract me and...it made a difference."

"The docs are gonna get you back. They always come through," Ronon said, sitting himself down next to Mason.

"Maybe, but you'll forgive me if I don't hold my breath. One way or another, I need this to be finished. I can't keep getting on this psychotic merry-go-round and if that means a one-way trip back to Earth, then that's what it means."

The friends stood by in silence. Ronon frowned his disapproval. Mason could tell he was trying to think of the right thing to say to get him to buck up and get back into the grind. After all the horrors he'd seen and lived through, quitting had still never been an option for him. It wasn't even a word in his vocabulary.

"There's always other things," the warrior said after a while.

"What?"

"Distractions. A reason to stick around."

Mason shot Ronon a quizzical look. Ronon had an expression on his face like he knew something that Capshaw didn't. "Ronon, what are you...?"

A shift in Ronon's demeanor to one more suggestive gave Mason the push he needed to get it. "Oh..." With a slightly embarrassed grin, he replied, "No...not for me. Not for a long time anyway."

Mason didn't understand why Ronon actually looked surprised. It wasn't like he was some kind of Lothario walking around scooping up the babes of Atlantis.

"Not interested?"

Mason snorted. "It's not that," he said. It definitely wasn't that. "It's complicated. Really, really complicated. I, um...I just try not to start things I can't finish. And that's kind of been the story of my life for a while now."

He exhaled. He was sick to death of talking about himself and his issues. "What about you, huh? Anybody managed to turn your head, yet?"

Being a friend of Ronon's wasn't always the easiest thing. Besides the early and abrupt wake-up calls, it also wasn't the easiest thing on the ego when every female eye in any given room turned in his direction. And the worst part of it was that Ronon was oblivious to all of it. So, Mason was completely astonished when Ronon stared at him and said in his stony voice, "Maybe. I think she might be interested in someone else, though."

Mason shook his head. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. Whoever he is doesn't stand a chance." With a firm smack to Ronon's shoulder, he added, "Besides, even if he does wind up with the girl, you can always kick his ass."

Ronon turned his head toward him, look him up and down, and said, "Good point."

* * *

"We need to start tightening the screws, Col. Sheppard. The science department is consistently late filing reports. I can't get even get a meeting with Dr. McKay to discuss it with him. He's been locked in his lab for days," Richard Woolsey said. John was sitting across from him in the expedition leader's office. "The IOA is sending a representative aboard the Daedalus to observe our operations."

"You're kidding me," John groaned. He was starting to get used to Woolsey, but they last thing they needed was another IOA stooge running around, one who didn't have a stake in Atlantis or in Pegasus. "Is he one of the good guys or one of the bad guys?"

"I haven't been privy to many details on him, as of yet. I do know that he hasn't been on the scene for very long, but has managed to impressed a lot of very important people."

"What does he want with us?" John questioned.

"From what I can gather, he may have a large say in the kind of funding we may expect for the foreseeable future."

"Great. So, we have to dance for our supper, now?"

"It's not nearly that simple, Colonel. Waging a war, all our humanitarian efforts throughout the galaxy...they're expensive and the IOA feels it is time to justify the cost we're asking the citizens of Earth to pay," Richard reasoned. "I'm hopeful now that your business with the Athosians has concluded, you might be able to assist me in getting Atlantis prepared."

John screwed his jaw. He hated this part of the job, having to deal with the politicians who didn't care about the people effected by their decisions. He had to defer to them, no matter how much he may want to drop them on an uninhabited planet somewhere. He smiled a little. Maybe, he'd give this guy five minutes in a room with a Wraith and sit back watch how fast the funding came in.

Richard gave him a look suggesting he knew exactly what the colonel was thinking. "No, Colonel."

"What?" he asked innocently.

* * *

After Teyla finished her tea and had taken advantage of having access to a shower again, the baby and her stomach joined forces in a less-than-subtle campaign for a proper breakfast. Taking John's advise to heart about making her final choices for the nursery soon, Teyla took along the catalogs to peruse them while she ate. The mess hall had been relatively quiet when she arrived. The majority of those assigned to the morning shift had already come and gone, and those not on-duty until later wouldn't filter in for a few more hours. Able to quickly get the food she wanted from the limited selections for the day, she found a seat and ate while she flipped through the pages, carefully studying the photos and descriptions provided.

She had finished eating, when a welcome shadow came up from behind. She didn't know how, but she had felt him coming. He didn't even have to say a word in his sweet voice before she was beaming.

"Shopping for the wee baby, are ya?"

Teyla stood up and embraced Dr. Beckett, careful not to jar him into spilling the two cups of fresh coffee he was hanging onto. His arms came around her as much as their clumsy positioning allowed. "It's wonderful to see you, again, Carson."

"Likewise, luv."

"It has been far too long," she said.

"Ya won't get any argument from me on that, lass," he smiled. They navigated their way out of each other's arms with caution. "You've grown quite a bit since the last time," he observed with a hint of humor.

"You do not need to remind me," she sighed. "My clothing does so everyday."

"Ya look lovely, darling."

"Thank you, Carson." Teyla turned back to the catalog on the table. "And yes, to answer your question, but I believe I have nearly finished. I was actually on my way to the infirmary to speak with Jennifer."

"Everything alright?"

"I am fine. I was merely hoping to catch up, if she has the time."

Carson nodded. "I'm sure she'll make the time for ya, dear. She could likely use the break. I'm on my way ta the infirmary myself, if ya wouldn't mind the company?"

Teyla smiled. "Of course not."

She gathered up her reading materials and they started down the hallway. Teyla hadn't seen Carson in several months, much longer than it had been for everyone else. He had left Atlantis to run his off-world clinics and hadn't returned to the city until recently. But, despite all the time that had past, the two picked up as though they'd never been apart. They exchanged stories about their separate adventures as they walked.

When the pair entered the infirmary, Teyla found that Carson had not been exaggerating. Jennifer was in a corner hunched over, peering into a microscope at some samples and looking a bit frayed around the edges. Jennifer greeted them with a sigh of relief both at the sight of her friend and the coffee.

Taking the cup in hand and hugging it like a long, lost pet, Jennifer whispered, "Bless you, Carson."

"From your lips to God's ears, doctor," he answered his colleague. "I've got a bit a work ta get back ta, so if you'll excuse me, ladies?"

With a parting smile to Carson, Teyla turned back to Jennifer who was still deeply involved in her coffee. "Have you made any progress?" she asked.

Jennifer shook her head. "I'd love to be able to say 'yes', but..."

Teyla pulled up a stool and sat at the lab table with Dr. Keller. "I wish there was something I could do to help."

Jennifer's lips turned upward in appreciation of the gesture, but also sad knowing there really wasn't anything anyone could do. Perhaps not even her. Teyla saw her visibly try to shake off the sadness apparent in her posture and ask, "What's with the catalogs? I thought you were done."

"As did I," Teyla sighed. "John has asked that I look them one last time to be certain."

Jennifer gave her an understanding, but amused smile. "It's all a bit much, huh?"

"Very," Teyla said shortly. "I fail, for example, to see the importance of having a bottle-warmer. Are there not many ways of getting a bottle to correct temperature without such a device?" She shook her head. "Sometimes, I do not understand your world."

"If it helps, neither do I," Jennifer admitted.

Thinking of something, Teyla did flip to page 68 and held it out to Jennifer. "I confess, I do have a desire for one of these." She pointed to a photo of a motorized infant swing. "I can imagine it coming in useful in many instances."

Adamantly bobbing her head in approval, Dr. Keller confirmed, "A friend of mine from medical school, Heather King, swears by it. You should absolutely get one."

"I will be certain to add it to the list, then," Teyla decided. "Perhaps, John will be pleased to see that I chose something."

Seizing on the subject and it's potential for juiciness, Jennifer asked with an expression of innocent curiosity, "How are things between you and the Colonel these days? You look happy."

"I am very happy," Teyla assured her.

"Did you two get a chance to talk things out? I know our trip got cut short and you've both been so busy for the last two weeks, but my internal optimist needs a shot in the arm right now. Please, tell me you managed to squeeze in a little time for yourselves."

Teyla said with a wicked grin, "It is true there was not a lot of time, but I believe we did manage a little squeezing."

Jennifer nearly choked on her coffee. Trying to drink and laugh at the same time proved to be a huge challenge for her. Teyla tried not to laugh at her friend's predicament.

"And we did speak," Teyla added, trying to bring Jennifer some ease.

"And?" the doctor got out, her voice still clearly compromised.

"I do not think things have been fully resolved, but we are...agreeing to disagree?" Teyla wondered if she was saying the expression correctly.

Jennifer indicated that she had it right. "And you're okay with that?"

"I believe so. It is trying at times, but I do not think John will rest until this child is born and he knows that we are both safe. He is quite protective of me in my current condition."

The faint beginnings of an appreciative grin formed on Jennifer's lips. "Aw...that's not such a bad thing, Teyla. He's just looking out for you. After..." she paused for a moment, knowing the sensitive nature of what she was bringing up, "...after your fall, you were still unconscious...I don't think I've ever seen the Colonel that rattled. He was really upset."

Teyla nodded sadly. The whole incident had left them both extraordinarily shaken. She shared, "I regret having put him through that. He is still quite effected by it."

"It wasn't your fault, Teyla. Bad things happen to good people. We all know that by now." With a deep sigh from the young doctor, Teyla could see her friend trying to shift the gears of the conversation. "But, you two are good, again. That's what matters right now."

"Yes, John and I are good," Teyla said, trying out the Earth phrase. Somehow it didn't quite roll off her tongue the way it did Jennifer's.

"So, did any other topics of interest come up while you two were...you know...talking?" Jennifer asked.

Teyla took her curiosity and infectious enthusiasm in stride. "To what would you be referring?"

"Oh,...anything..." Jennifer would not have made a good poker player.

A wide smile appeared on Teyla's face. "You mean the possibility of a marriage?"

"What else would I be talking about?" she confirmed quickly.

"We have not had...a direct discussion about it, but he has skirted the subject on more than one occasion."

"But, you want to?"

"John occupies a very special and singular place in my heart and in my life."

Jennifer gaped at her. "You never cease to amaze me, Teyla. I think that is the most indirect and polite way of saying you want to get married that I've ever heard. I think if I found the guy I wanted to marry, you'd have to peel me off the ceiling, I'd be so excited."

Teyla giggled at very idea. "I look forward to that day, Jennifer. I will remember to bring a ladder."

Having finished her coffee successfully, Jennifer set aside her cup and leaned back in her chair. Teyla could see the worry that had been lining her face earlier had begun to dissipate. It never failed to

astound her, the healing power of a simple conversation with a friend.

"Do you think you'd have an Athosian ceremony or an Earth one?" Jennifer asked. "Or a mix of both? That could be really cool."

"I do not know. John and I will discuss that when the time comes, I suppose."

"Would you want to get married before the baby's born?" she queried. It seemed Jennifer's interest knew no bounds today. It was as though she were channeling all her worries and concerns over her inability to help Sgt. Capshaw into something more pleasant.

Glad to share something of her culture, Teyla responded, "It is not uncommon among my people for there to be children prior to a bonding ceremony. Or marriage, as you say. Children are treasured. The timing or circumstances of their conception is unimportant, so long as they are loved and cared for. Whether the parents choose to bond for a lifetime or not, it is about the two of them and makes no difference in their role in the child's life."

Jennifer leaned in and Teyla could tell she wanted to ask a question, but was reluctant. "Teyla, can I...? Can I ask you something about...Kanaan?" she got out.

Teyla, having learned to make peace with how those painful events had played out, assented. She had not forgotten the tragic events of so long ago, but she tried to look at it from the perspective that if they had not happened, she would not have the life she had now and that she loved so very much.

"If things had been different, do you think you would have...bonded with him?"

She didn't have to think about it. She already knew the answer in her heart. "I do not believe so. Kanaan and I were very close, childhood friends. I had always cared for him deeply, but in a very, very different manner than I do with John," Teyla related. "We were in the early stages of exploring the possibility of becoming more when I became pregnant. But, my heart already belonged to John. I do not think I would have been able to settle for anything less than that. It would not have been fair to Kanaan or to myself. I believe that, while we may live and be happy with perhaps a number of people we may meet in our lives, there is only one true love for each of us. John is mine."

"Wow..." Jennifer sat back looking awestruck and envious. "It must be great to feel so sure of something. I don't think I've been that sure of anything in my whole life...ever."

"I was not always so. It did take John and I several years to even begin exploring our feelings for one another. Certainty takes time and trial," Teyla reminded her.

Reality seemed to take hold of Dr. Keller again. She added with a dark pall over her, "Trial...that's one thing around here that's never in short supply."

"Sadly, that is true."

* * *

Sitting alone on his bed and feeling the subtle quaking of his limbs and the torment that rode along with it, Mason stared ahead at the free weights sitting on the rack in front of him. His constant companions for two years, he glared coldly at the cast iron that had come to fill both the roles of his best friend and his most bitter adversary. In the week and a half since he'd been released from the infirmary, they had called to him, telling him to get back at it and so far he'd given them the proverbial middle finger.

For a long time, he'd obeyed like a good soldier taking orders. He'd done his duty. He'd kept up with the constant and rigorous conditioning to prevent muscle loss, the strict medical protocols, and the never-ending poking and prodding. He'd listened to his superiors and his doctors, telling him it would be worth his while. And sometimes, he had to admit, they'd been exactly right. He held a can of beer up to his lips, remembering the impressive things he'd seen and done, the people he was proud to be associated with since he'd cheated death the first time. But then, there were the days like this. Too many of them. Far too many and those damned weights had the balls to sit there, waiting for him to get up and put them to work. Tow the line. Keep your head down and forge ahead. Tomorrow will be better. Prosaic platitudes that had long ago lost any meaning for him.

He gulped down what was left of his beer, crushed the can, and tossed it toward the small wastebasket in the corner. He watched it bounce of the rim and land on the floor next to it. Mason wasn't much of a drinker before he'd been practically forbidden by the endless streams of medications and he wasn't one now. He had one because he could, but there wasn't really any point to it. It wouldn't chase away any demons or make him feel any better. It couldn't take away the pain or give him another option besides going back to Earth, where nothing and no one waited for him and he had no future he cared to entertain.

The persistent call to get up resounded in his head. He heard Jennifer and Ronon and Beckett and Sheppard and everyone else telling him not to quit. Advice he received, knowing it came from a place of caring, but to him seemed almost cruel. Didn't they know how hard this was? To constantly be teased with the promise of a life and have it consistently, unfailingly torn away and thrown in his face that, in the end, he was alone in this and would end up that way as well? He was the only one who had to carry this weight for the rest of his life. Long after he was gone, they would continue fighting the war for freedom in Pegasus, helping the people of this galaxy, and doing good while he faded into obscurity. Well, he wanted to be alone. He craved it as his body craved a fix that he despised. Friends, the tantalizing prospect of a future, perhaps one with...They were a burden he didn't think he could carry anymore.

_Mason Capshaw, get up! _

Furious and saddened at hearing the soft voice of his mother joining the others in their pitiless pushing and sounding so disappointed, he rose. Unaware of the tears escaping from his eyes, he raised the weights and began to stretch his abused body again, wanting the entire time to throw them through a window, into the afternoon sun, and down the dizzying height of the tower. But, he didn't. A part of him wasn't quite ready to let go and he hated that it was dragging the rest of him along for the ride. He looked straight into the long, dark tunnel in front of him and kept moving. He didn't hold out some misguided hope of a miracle being found. It was another thing in his life that there was no point to anymore, but he did it anyway. It was pathetic. He had become a man with no purpose. Lost. He kept moving solely because he didn't know what else to do.

* * *

"What happened in here?" John asked.

Rodney and his lab were way past their usual lived-in states of being. The physicist himself looked like he'd just pulled another one of his famous three-day all-nighters and the lab, was littered with coffee cups, dinner trays, balled up pieces of paper containing rejected theories and ideas, and pencils that appeared to be thrown around at random. None of these things were particularly unusual, but this time there was the added accent of black scorch marks all over the table.

His concentration broken, Dr. McKay glanced at the table that, at one time had been silver, but no more. "That was AD-368."

John sucked in a breath. "So, that one's a no."

"Unless Capshaw wants his insides barbequed."

"I'm thinking not," John let the obvious slip in his dry way. "On the bright side, looks like you've come up with a way to cook a whole lotta steak in a short amount of time."

He eyeballed the mess of raw circuitry and naked electronics decorating the next table over. A spark of electricity flashed in front of him and for the first time he realized that there was live current running through it. "Self-administering your shock treatments, now?"

"Very funny."

"What's this one for?"

"AD-765," Rodney said succinctly. "I was just about to start that one."

"Okay..."

Reflective of the disorder in the room, McKay was looking more out of sorts than normal. He'd been putting in long hours testing this Ancient tech, never knowing quite what to expect from them and his already sensitive nerves were frazzled. John moved toward the table to get a closer look.

"Don't touch anything!" Rodney jumped down his throat.

"I wasn't planning on it, McKay!" John returned. "How much coffee have you had, anyway?"

Rodney rubbed his eyes. "Not enough apparently, and I'm pretty sure I'm running a fever."

"I could run down to the mess hall and get you a refreshing glass of orange juice," John offered innocently, keeping a straight face when Rodney scowled at him. "It's loaded with Vitamin C. Great if you're getting sick."

"Did you come down here just to harass me or was there something you actually wanted?"

"I'm just checking to see if there's been any progress, that's all," John answered.

Rodney waved to again to the scene of the previous conflagration. "Well, consider yourself up-to-date."

"That...sucks," John said.

"Yeah," echoed the physicist. "How's he doing, by the way?"

John shrugged. "I don't know. I just got back last night."

McKay nodded. "I haven't gotten over to see him, either. I've been...extinguishing things." Rodney took a deep breath, calling for awareness and readying himself. He marched over to a box on the side of the table holding all the live wires that John hadn't noticed before. He pulled out a small, black, circular device about the size of a walnut with a pair of forceps similar to what was used in the infirmary.

"What's that do?"

"If you believe the advertising on it, which I strongly advise against...," Rodney started, carefully holding device AD-765 over the circuits, "...it has the ability to harness electrical impulses."

John frowned, confused. "Capshaw isn't a computer or light socket, Rodney."

"Well, in theory, it will work on bio-electrical output, as well. After all, the nervous system is run on a kind of electricity...pretty low-voltage but...and that's what we're basically trying to do, right? Turn off the damaged section of his nervous system?"

Thoroughly unimpressed with both this device's potential for success and Rodney's grasp of medicine, John dripped sarcasm, "Oh, I can't wait to see how this turns out."

Clearly nervous, Rodney said, "Just...stand back, okay. I nearly lost my eyebrows last time."

John wisely backed a good five feet away from the table and chewed his lower lip as Rodney's shaky hand guided the forceps and the experimental device to it's destination.

"Easy, Rodney," he said, breaking the tense silence and nearly scaring Dr. McKay to death.

"Could you just...!"

"Sorry."

Rodney gingerly set the device on top of the circuits and when he wasn't immediately and tragically incinerated, stepped back and waited.  
Nothing happened at first and the uneasy duo were nearly lulled into a sense that the device was a dud. That, of course, was when things started to happen.

They saw black tendrils forming with the device at the epicenter of the action. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, they snaked their way along the wiring and circuitry like a living oil slick.

"Rodney..." John said warily.

They were growing bigger and longer by the second, continually weaving themselves into a complicated web covering the live wires. Rodney ran over to study the remote computer linkup he'd set up to monitor the experiment. "It's feeding off the loose current to grow."

"Are you telling me that thing's gonna keep getting bigger as long as the power's on?"

"I don't know! Maybe..."

John was watching the mass of black grow. If it didn't stop, it would soon cover the whole table top. "Cut the power, McKay."

"Just wait a minute. I need to be sure of what I'm reading first."

"McKay!"

"It could be important!" Rodney was feverishly typing into his computer and John could see his eyes darting from one side to the other reading as fast as he could.

As quickly as it had spread, the tendrils suddenly came to halt and settled into place. John could barely see the electronics under the mass, but he also couldn't see anymore electrical arcs. For a moment, he thought Rodney had done as he'd ordered and cut the power, but he knew better. Rodney hadn't done anything.

"McKay...? What just happened?"

Rodney looked up from his computer and uttered, "Uh...I'm not...There's still power running through those conduits. I don't know why it stopped. Wait..."

He went back to his readouts.

"What is it?"

"I've lost the secondary power cell."

John wanted to shake him just to see if a comprehensible answer would fall out. "What does that mean, Rodney? And so help me, if you..."

"There's still power feeding through the wires, it's just not getting funneled back out to the secondary power cell. It's...trapped. There's nothing getting through."

"What? Like that thing is containing it?"

"For lack of a better term? Yeah," Rodney replied.

They both stared at the forbidding sight in front of them. The mass had stopped growing at approximately three feet across. And by all accounts, it had stopped on it's own.

"Turn the power off, Rodney," John said.

"It's not growing anymore..."

"Just do it, McKay!" John exclaimed. Then, lowering his voice, he reasoned, "This is an experiment, right? Let's just see what it does, okay?"

This time, he didn't get any argument out of the befuddled scientist. With the flick of a switch, the electricity fueling the whole experiment died. In moments, the tendrils began to shrink, pulling away from the spare parts they had so easily swallowed minutes before. They continue their rapid reduction until nothing remained but the original walnut-shaped device.

"What does this mean?" John asked, stunned and starting to feel like he was repeating himself.

"I have no idea," Rodney answered. "But, I think I have a lot of work to do."

* * *

It was the end of long day. Jennifer had spent most of it in the med lab, getting nowhere and more frustrated with each passing hour. Teyla's visit had been the one bright spot in her day and the thing that kept her from wanting to pull her hair out. She had looked at cellular regeneration, stem cell therapies, surgical options, more holistic routes, and when she had finished with them, she started all over again. Her eyes had gotten so fatigued that at one point, she could barely tell a muscle cell from a nerve cell.

She didn't want to admit to herself that maybe Mason had been right. For all her work, she was no closer, time was ticking away, and she had entertained every idea that she could think of. It wouldn't be long before Woolsey and John had to start discussing his return to Earth. She knew she was walking toward trouble when she started toward his quarters, but she had to buy more time. She had to convince him to let her. She couldn't just let him walk away from his life.

She knocked on the door, the sound echoing slightly in that metallic way that went straight through her teeth. It took longer than she expected, but eventually the door slid aside. Her breath hitched in her throat, when she saw he was bare-chested, looking very much like he had been in the middle of something. For a millisecond, she felt a flare of jealously rear up and take her by surprise. She immediately quashed it, though. She had no right at all to feel that way. None. His private life was none of her business.

"What do you want, Jennifer?" he asked. It was plain to see that he wasn't happy to see her. Their last several conversations hadn't gone very well and he probably already knew exactly why she was here.

"How...how are you doing? Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

They stood together in stony silence, the air around rife with tension, neither one of them ready to proceed with what promised to be difficult for both of them. Mason eventually broke the stalemate. With a resigned exhale, he moved aside and waved to her, indicating she should come in. She was profoundly relieved at the gesture and was even more so, when she entered and found that he was, in fact, alone. The noise of running water came from the bathroom.

"I was just about to catch a shower," he informed her from behind. "It's kind of been a long day."

He ambled around to meet her face-to-face again. Jennifer's eyes wandered to his chest. She had seen the huge, jagged scar that started on his right shoulder and ended at his ribs on the left side countless times. She'd studied it in a very clinical way, from the mottled red, pink, and white hues it had, to it's width, the areas he had the most trouble with—she knew them all by heart. But, she had never taken the time to notice how it cut across his pectoral muscle on one side, then gradually, almost gracefully, curved along underneath the line of the other one.

"I, uh, haven't seen you around," she uttered.

He responded with a clenched jaw, but any eye contact she managed, he immediately drifted away. He folded his arms. "I've been here. You could've come by any time."

"I've been working." They stood apart, each waiting for the other. She finally spoke out. "Can we please just talk about this?"

A derisive sound escaped his lips. "I'm pretty sure we already have and I'm also sure I haven't changed my mind. I'm done being a slave to a needle and I am sick of this whole thing."

"So, that's it? You don't care about what you may be sacrificing? What you may lose?"

"I'm not in the mood for this, Jennifer."

"Come on, Mason," she pushed. "There must be something here worth staying for. Worth fighting for."

Mason glared at her, his eyes boring into hers so deep that she could feel it down to her toes. "I don't have anything to lose. Nothing."

Disappointed and hurt, she countered, "Keep telling yourself that if it makes it easier. But, in the end, all it makes you is a coward." As soon as she'd said it, she regretted it.

He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. Pointing a rigid finger toward the bathroom, he said in a low tone. "I'm going to go take that shower, now, before I say something I regret. So unless you plan on joining me, you should seriously think about letting yourself out."

He was just about the farthest thing from a coward she could imagine. "Mason, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I just...I'm worried about you. You're my friend and I don't want to lose you."

She watched him tighten up. He took two steps toward her and pointed. "We are not friends! To you, I am a science project! In a week, two weeks, a month...I'm just going to be another medical file in your collection!"

"Why are you saying this?" she asked him, feeling tears bubble up.

"Somebody has to."

"Well, I'm not going to," she dug in.

"Fine. Do what you want. Bury your head in the sand. Just go back to your lab and leave me alone."

"This isn't you," she insisted.

"Oh, grow up, Jennifer! How long does something have to be right in front of your face before you'll see it? I've been down this road and it doesn't end! I'm doing what's best for both of us. One day, you'll see that."

"What about Setisse? Is this what's best for her?" she pointed out. In his despair, he had probably forgotten about the little girl who had latched onto him with all her heart.

Mason's face went stone cold, stunning her with how fast he shut down. "I never should have let that girl get so close."

She felt herself reaching for him. Her fingertips brushed his arm and he flinched away from her. He caught her hard by the wrist and growled, "Don't! Don't touch me!"

"Mason..."

"Every single time you touch me, you make it worse! You're always talking about having hope in the future, meanwhile you're a living, breathing reminder of all the things I'll never have. I can't do it anymore!"

Jennifer could feel tears rolling down her cheeks. His words cut into her. She had thought she was doing the right thing, helping him. She was a doctor. It was her calling to heal, not hurt. She had no idea he felt that way and she instantly felt remorse for her unwitting part in adding to his misery.

He released his grip on her wrist. His hands tore through his hair as he turned away. With his back to her, he waved her off and said, "Go. Just...go."

The tears already trickling down from her eyes threatened to become a cascade and she left quickly before the dam burst.

* * *

Usually the kitchen counter in their quarter lay empty, with the exception of the coffee maker and a tea pot resting nearby on the stove. But, John had come home with his arms full of ingredients newly swiped from the mess hall. On the stove, he had a pot of water boiling noodles that he'd pulled out of a box and a sauce pan off to the side, working on a mixture of butter, garlic, cream, and an almost powdery sort of cheese, known as Parmesan. Hovering behind him, Teyla took a deep breath and inhaled the aroma that was spreading through the air. "It smells delicious, John."

Giving the sauce a stir, he smirked and said in a self-deprecating manner, "Well, it may not be the best food you'll ever eat, but there won't be any need to call the pizza delivery guy. Just wish I had some parsley..." he trailed off.

"I am certain it will be fine meal," she said as she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She pulled his shirt just high enough for her to touch the skin of his hard stomach. "And may I say, that I find this side of you very intriguing."

His ears perked up at that. "Say it all you want, sweetie. I still have to keep on eye on the food."

She rested her head on his back for a moment as they swayed together. Taking in the masculine scent of him, Teyla reveled in the fact that he was here. She hummed, "What can I do to help?"

"I'm cooking for you, tonight. Remember?"

"Don't be ridiculous, John. You have had a long day. I would like to help," she insisted.

John looked around. "There's not really much. I can throw together the salad in a minute. Maybe, get out a couple of plates, forks, that sort of thing? This should be done before too long."

Teyla reached into the cabinet and pulled out dishes for two. She was putting them on the table when a soft tap came at their door. They exchanged baffled glances.

"Are we expecting company?" Teyla asked, thinking John might have invited some of their friends over for dinner. She wouldn't ordinarily have minded, but this was their first chance to spend real time together all day and she had a few ideas she would have preferred to try out in private.

"I didn't do it," he said raising his hands in the air in surrender.

"Very well," she accepted.

Teyla went to investigate the mysterious visitor. She opened the door and was shocked to see a tear-stained and visibly upset Jennifer standing on the other side.

"Jennifer? What is wrong?"

"Teyla, I..." she tried. Teyla could see that Jennifer was going to have a hard time articulating anything with how distraught she was. "I...couldn't think of...anywhere else to go."

"Come in," Teyla said, gently taking her by the arm.

Jennifer went on as she followed her friend's lead. "Thank you, Teyla."

When Dr. Keller started to lose her composure again, Teyla embraced her, trying to soothe her. Hearing the commotion, John emerged from his position in the kitchen. "What's going on?" he questioned, his brows wrinkled in concern.

Jennifer started at John's appearance and let go of Teyla, but the Athosian woman held onto her hand. The distraught doctor took in the smells brewing and realized what she'd interrupted. "Oh, God. I'm so sorry, Colonel. I didn't... I really, really didn't mean to intrude on your night."

"It is perfectly alright, Jennifer," Teyla responded.

Teyla was planning on asking her to sit down and find out what had occurred to upset her so much, when she caught John staring at something. She tracked his scrutinizing gaze to it's goal. A patch of angry, red skin stood out against the pale skin tone that she usually possessed. It surrounded her entire wrist and there were finger-shaped definitions to it.

John lifted a finger and pointed to it. "What the hell happened?"

Jennifer brought her wrist up to examine it and she looked as surprised to see the damage as they were. She gave it a testing twist and was confounded when a sharp twinge came forth, eliciting a slight wince. Recognizing how this would appear, she immediately started, "Oh, no...Colonel, he didn't mean it. It isn't that bad. I didn't even know..."

"Who didn't mean what, Doc?" John questioned her, growing more disturbed by the second.

"Jennifer, did someone hurt you?" Teyla asked, appalled.

Jennifer shook her head. "I shouldn't have come. It really wasn't what it looks like."

"Doc..."

Teyla saw the intense worry in Jennifer's face. She clearly was hesitant to talk about it now, but the doctor also knew John and she knew that he wasn't going to let it drop until he had answers.

Jennifer closed her eyes and readied herself. Calmly, she explained. "Mason and I just had an argument. Things got... He just grabbed my wrist, Colonel. That's all. He didn't hurt me. I didn't even realize it was there until you pointed it out. Please...don't..."

"Capshaw did that?"

Jennifer reluctantly nodded.

Teyla watched John assume a different, straighter posture. In that one move, he became less the man she lived with and had fathered her child, and more the man she had worked with for years. More official, closed off, and definitely upset.

"Okay, I'm gonna go deal with this. You two stay here," he stated.

"Colonel, please. Just let him cool off," Jennifer advised pleadingly. "He needs time."

"No," John said firmly. "This kind of stuff doesn't happen here. Not as long as I have anything to say about it and I'm gonna put a lid on it, right now."

The two women stood by as he marched out. Teyla had Jennifer sit down on the couch and briefly went into the kitchen to turn things off and pull the pots off the stove. Even though John had said that the food was almost ready, Teyla didn't want to eat without him and she had no reckoning of how long he might be. She couldn't see him being back any time soon. With the small matters taken care of, she took her place next to Jennifer.

Teyla didn't have to push for answers any longer. Jennifer must have felt that the damage had already been done. She had nothing else to gain from keeping silent and she had come knocking on Teyla's door in want of a listening ear and the comforting shoulder of a dear friend.

"I shouldn't have pushed him. He was upset, he was in pain, and he's been...different lately. But, I pushed and I pushed. I shouldn't have..." Jennifer sat berating herself. Tears were making a return to her eyes. "I went there hoping to...convince him to let me help him. I thought maybe I could get through to him. Maybe, he'd listen."

Teyla spread her arms around Jennifer's shoulder and squeezed.

With a sorrowful sniff, she continued. "He's pushing everybody away. He's pushing me away. Maybe, it's selfish of me...but, I want him to stay." Jennifer took the end of her sleeve and wiped the salty drops from her eyes. "I don't know why I'm getting so upset about this. It's not like I haven't been through this before. I've had patients I couldn't help."

Teyla offered quietly. "Perhaps, he has come to mean something more to you than your other patients?"

Jennifer stared at her, looking like she hadn't heard her correctly.

"Jennifer, do you care for him?"

"Of course, I..."

"Do you care for him as you would for John or Rodney? Or is he different?"

Jennifer bit her lower lip. "I don't know, Teyla."

* * *

John and Teyla's quarters were in a separate section of the city than the majority of the living quarters in the city, but thanks to the transporter it still didn't take him long to reach Mason's room. John's mind was spinning. He was pissed. Beyond pissed. It wasn't the first assault that had happened under his command. In an environment where they all lived on the edge of war and the unknown, tempers ran high sometimes and things occasionally got heated and taken too far. But, it was usually one soldier to another and put to bed quickly. He had no tolerance when it came to his men taking on civilians and this... He never would have seen this coming.

Keller had said that she didn't even know it was there. He had the uncomfortable feeling that, had he stayed longer, she would have come to his defense and Mason had had a hard time of it lately, but that didn't mean anything to John. No one under his command would ever lay their hands on a woman like that. It was one thing, in a combat situation, to come up against someone like Teyla or Teldy, Mehra or Cadman, or any of the other more than capable fighters, but Keller? John seriously doubted she could swat a fly without feeling guilty about it later. It only cut deeper that Capshaw was a member of his team. Someone who had watched his back and he'd watched Mason's in return. He trusted the man and he was starting to question if he ever really knew him, at all.

John banged on the door and waited. He waited and waited. After several attempts, he waved his hand over the control panel on the off chance it was unlocked. Sure enough, the doors slid open.

The second Sheppard crossed the threshold, his indignation and the reaming he had been geared up to dish out went right out the window. He had a feeling in his gut that something was terribly wrong.

"Sergeant?" he called.

John moved around the room. The sound of a shower running from the open bathroom drew him in that direction.

"Capshaw?"

John reached the entrance and stopped in his tracks. "Oh, my God..." he muttered under his breath.

The floor of the bathroom was covered in glittering shards of glass, the sole remains of the mirror that once hung above the sink. Mason sat against the wall with his knees bent, his right hand oozing blood.


	12. For the Ones We Love

**Chapter 12 – For the Ones We Love**

xo

The noise of the door skimming open made Teyla and Jennifer look up from the couch. John walked in with the straight, stoic bearing of the commander that he'd left with an hour ago. Only Teyla could see a difference. Gone was the fire and anger that he had set out with and in it's place, a weight rested on his shoulders.

"John, is everything...?"

"It's taken care of," he finished for her.

The two women rose. Jennifer eyes rested on John's hands and uniform. The doctor began shaking her head in some sort of denial. "Colonel, please. Tell me that's not blood."

His face set it stone, he replied, "Carson can fill you in on the details."

Without another word, Jennifer raced to the door.

"Dr. Keller," John called after her.

She turned around.

"From this point forward, Capshaw is to be treated by Dr. Beckett. I don't care if he's got a case of the sniffles. I don't care if his arm's been cut off. For the time being, it's probably best you two aren't even in the same room. Am I understood?"

Teyla could have told him that his orders were unnecessary. Jennifer had told her everything that Sgt. Capshaw had said to her. About his feelings for her. About how being so close to her only made things harder for him to bear. Jennifer had already made up her own mind that she was wrong person to be treating him. The only question in Teyla's mind was if there was more to it than that.

"I understand, Colonel," she said simply and walked out.

As the door coasted to a close, Teyla said, "She is not one of your men, John. You did not need to be so forceful with her."

"It's for her own good, Teyla," he said.

John lifted his hand to rub his chin along the shadowy growth that typically came at the end of a day. In knowing they were alone, she could see him lowering the armor, gradually releasing the tension he carried in his jaw and shoulders. He took a look at his hands dotted with dried, red spots and took himself into the bathroom to clean it off. From where he left her, Teyla could feel an ambient sense of unrest and disconsolation prodding at her.

When he emerged again a minute later, she watched him carefully. The way his shoulders sagged, it was a familiar sight on those nights when he felt the burden of command pressing down on him. She wanted to ask him what happened, why he had blood on his hands, but she could tell it wasn't the right time. He would tell her when he was ready. She hoped, at any rate. She hoped he would remember that he didn't have to bear things alone anymore. After their long separation, she was nervous that perhaps he would no longer wish to share that part of himself with her.

John's head that had hung low, snatched upward. Appearing unsure of himself, he let his eyes run over her and regarded her as though he knew the errant thoughts that had been running through her head. And in answer, he draped his arms around her and pulled her to him as if to say "I remember". Held tight and pressed full against his body, Teyla folded herself into him and met the snug hold with one of her own. She brought her hand up to cup his cheek. He accepted the caress and leaned into it without hesitation. Locked in a mute embrace, Teyla took comfort in the warmth of his arms and John seemed to be taking shelter in her. Anything they may have wanted to say was already being passed along between the two of them in a manner too intimate and enigmatic to be explained. Teyla could feel something lightly touching her mind like the fingers of two hands entwining. She thought she was imagining it, until John let out a startled huff.

Teyla gasped. "John, can you...?"

"...feel that? Yeah," he gulped. "Are you doing that?"

"I do not know," she breathed. She closed her eyes and rested her spinning head on his shoulder.

She felt his strong arms tighten around her. "Hey, are you okay?"

The impression was withdrawing at its own leisurely pace. Teyla looked up at him and smiled in reassurance. Her breath coming still in a heavy rush, she got out, "That was...thrilling..."

"You can say that again," he agreed.

"And overwhelming."

His brow furrowed, causing a wrinkle between his eyes she found quite appealing. "You sure you're alright? Maybe, we ought to get you checked out."

"It is passing, John. I am perfectly fine. Better than fine."

"Well, at least one of us is," he disclosed. He was beginning to look a little light-headed himself. "I think I need to sit down."

They took refuge together on the couch and gathered themselves. After a minute or two, Teyla was feeling relatively normal again and John appeared to be recovering, as well.

"What was that?" he questioned.

Teyla shook her head, recalling the powerful feeling. "I am uncertain. I have had similar experiences before." Seeing John's desire for more answers, she added, "When connecting with Wraith. Only that...it's not nearly so pleasant. And I have made connections to others as well but nowhere nearly that strong."

"Others?"

She suppressed a grin at the jealous hint in John's tone. She said, "My father. Kanaan. Those who also possessed the gift."

"People with the Wraith gene," he put together with a comprehending nod. "I don't have the Wraith gene, Teyla."

She gave him a patient smile. "I do not pretend to understand the science, John. But, there is someone else here who does and also connects us to one another."

John eyes darted down to her stomach. His hand gingerly reached out to touch her. "You think the baby...?"

"Anything is possible."

"Why now? Teyla, you're six months pregnant. Wouldn't we have felt something like this before?"

"When would we have had the chance, John?" she asked, reminding him that until yesterday, they were still basically living separate lives on separate planets. "It is conceivable that our physical proximity coupled with our child's increasing maturity is the reason this has only begun now."

John exhaled. She could see that he was tired and, as amazing as this new experience was, it was a lot to take in and he hadn't been able to completely dismiss the turmoil he'd just waded through. He cast a glance at the untouched plates still sitting on the table.

"Or...," he offered, "...we're both just suffering from the early symptoms of starvation. I see you didn't eat."

She indicated to him that he assumed correctly. With a wan smile, she said, "It was supposed to be our night, was it not?"

He reached out with his lips and pressed a soft kiss against her forehead. A determined expression settled in and he took her by the hand, leading her toward the abandoned kitchen.

"Night's not over yet, Teyla. C'mon. We may have to order a pizza after all, but let's see what we can salvage."

* * *

Jennifer marched into the infirmary looking for Carson. The whole way there, scenarios ran through her head as to why Col. Sheppard had blood on his hands, ranging from the ridiculous to the extreme. A nasty papercut all the way to... She shook her head, chasing away thoughts that didn't belong. She dealt in facts. There was no point in worrying when she didn't know that there was anything to worry about. That's what she tried to tell herself, anyway. But, all her self-correcting and nervous energy came crashing to a halt as soon as she saw him.

In one of the more isolated beds, Carson leaned over Mason carefully working on a hand that looked like it had been in the boxing ring with Edward Scissorhands. It was riddled with slits of varying sizes and depths, but the worst of it was centered on his knuckles. They were shredded. And Mason himself, judging from the bags hanging from his IV pole and the way his head hung lolled off to one side, had been pretty heavily sedated. She blinked away the wetness that threatened in her eyes. He was at peace for a while, but he'd be right back confronting the full fury of his body when the sedatives wore off.

Dr. Beckett adjusted the overhead lamp, lighting up the abused area, and reached for a pair of forceps. Jennifer found her finely-honed professional distance completely swept aside as she watched him plucking splintered fragments of glass from the soft tissue between his fingers.

She heard a sharp intake of air coming from her mouth and she threw her hand up. Too late, however. Carson heard it. He swiveled around and tugged down the mask covering his face.

"Jennifer," he said seriously, "You're not meant ta be here, darling. Colonel's orders."

"I know," she said, finding herself searching for more air. She couldn't seem to breathe. "I just, um...I needed to know..."

Dr. Beckett glanced at his sleeping patient and heaved a sigh. "I suppose it'll be fine. I doubt he'd know his own name if ya asked him right now. How are _you_, dear?"

"It's just a little sore," she said, glossing over the insignificant injury to her wrist. "What happened to him, Carson?"

"Lad put his fist through a mirror and tried putting a hole in the wall, as well," Carson reported and before Jennifer could ask, he finished for her, "He's going ta be fine, Jennifer. Nothing's broken. Just a quick clean up and a few...dozen...stitches and he'll be right as rain."

She eyeballed the hand and thought Carson's estimate had been a kind one. It would be, in the _least,_ a few dozen. Why had he done that to himself? Was he really so angry with her?

Feeling her throat closing around her, she said, "Thanks, Carson. I'll just...I'll go."

"Jennifer."

She looked back at her sweet colleague.

"He's agreed ta resume a medication regimen and he's going ta start seeing Dr. Wilcox in the morning."

Jennifer blinked and did a quick check to make sure her jaw wasn't actually on the floor. Not daring to believe, she sputtered, "He what? How did you talk him into it?"

"I didn't, actually."

Dr. Beckett related to her what had happened in Sgt. Capshaw's quarters. Col. Sheppard's ultimatum. Everything. "As soon as that young man found out that he'd accidentally hurt ya, luv, there wasn't really any question whether he'd agree. He did it ta keep ya safe."

Jennifer exhaled and straightened up, trying to let the comment roll off of her and not show how much it stuck. "I guess it doesn't really matter why he did it, does it? We've got time, now. We can keep looking for a cure."

"If ya say so, Doctor," Carson replied with a knowing smile.

* * *

In his arms, Teyla stirred, bringing him back to the present. John was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. Their night certainly hadn't gone the way he had planned. He and Teyla had managed to have a nice dinner and all that really mattered was that she was here and they were together, but he found himself wishing that, for once, things could go the way they were supposed to. A simple, quiet night with the woman he loved. That was all he wanted. Time to talk and time to _not_ talk, without the realities of their life crashing in on them and tarnishing what could have been a great night.

Nestled against him, Teyla murmured softly into his chest and rolled onto her other side, facing away from him. Once she had gotten comfortable, he relaxed his arms around her again. Her pajamas, a golden-hued camisole and matching pair of bottoms, were ones that she'd worn before she had gotten pregnant and did nothing to hide her growing belly. John's left hand swept lightly over her exposed mid-section. Teyla purred unconsciously at the gentle contact and John indulged himself in a kiss to her shoulder.

As usual, she had been his high point. Apparently the universe had decided it wasn't enough for him to be completely and utterly captivated by her every move, her every word. Now, they had new avenues of closeness they could explore. Somehow, their little one was creating a link that at times, granted him a window into her and allowed him to see into her heart. Teyla had described it as 'thrilling'. To him, that was a colossal understatement. He hadn't believed it possible that she could care for him as much he did for her, but he had seen it for himself and he was blown away by it. He also wondered how much he deserved something that special.

The guilt he carried reared it's ugly head. Mason's face when he'd found him taunted him. John had seen that look before on men who had been mercilessly tortured, retreating into themselves in a vain attempt at escape. He'd done the right thing. Carson had said so. Teyla had said so, too, when he finally told her what had gone on. Getting him back on pain medication was the kind thing to do and what was best for everyone. But, how kind was it when it was only a temporary balm and the band-aid was inevitably ripped off? What if it wound up being the thing that killed him?

John closed his eyes, willing the memory away. He curled himself in tighter to Teyla's slumbering body. He'd done it for her. It was true that he'd had Jennifer and Rodney and everyone else's safety in mind, but in the end, he'd done it for her. When he'd made his decision, he'd imagined Teyla being the one in his vicinity when he was consumed by the pain and lashed out. It was selfish and his actions made him an accomplice in his friend's torture. He'd manipulated and bullied Capshaw back onto the rack and he'd been the one to tie him down.

With his tiny son or daughter sleeping directly underneath his hand, John told himself that it had been worth it. And as guilty as he felt, John knew he would do the same thing again and again. He would pay any price, no matter how high. For them.

* * *

With his eyelids still heavy, Mason awoke. Disoriented and wading through a thick fog veiled over his mind, he peered around. For a tense moment, the sterile environment of the infirmary was out of focus, nearly unrecognizably so, and he couldn't remember how he'd gotten there. His thoughts were moving like molasses and he wondered why. He sluggishly brought his head around and his gaze landed on a dripping IV.

Mason closed his eyes. He was back here again.

_ "Beckett, come in. This is Sheppard. I need you in Sgt. Capshaw's quarters, immediately. And bring along supplies...Just get down here."_

He hadn't even known Col. Sheppard was there until he heard his radio call for help. Sitting in a crimson splattered mess, he'd been adrift a world away. Sweating and shaking with agonizing pain threatening to swallow him whole, he was doing all he could to disconnect. He had to. He could feel his control, his grip on himself becoming treacherous. He couldn't see straight anymore.

He'd tried to get up. He remembered that. He'd put his hand down and tried to get up and Sheppard had yelled, looking at him with alarm. The next second, his CO had wrapped his hand up in a towel. It was only then that he really saw the blood seeping through.

_"Your hand broken?"_

_"Don't know, sir."_

_"Can't you tell?"_

He should have been able to tell. Mason, like just about every other soldier, had had his fair share of broken bones. It wasn't a feeling one tended to forget. But, he couldn't. Not through the pain that left him blind to all else.

_"Honestly, sir, I can't even feel it."_

He'd heard a strangled chuckled emanate from his throat and instantly tried to quash it. If he didn't, he had a strong feeling it would've morphed into cries of pain.

_"You can't feel that?"_

He'd only shaken his head, no longer trusting his voice. Mason thought he heard Sheppard swear, but he'd already begun to turn in on himself again. He didn't know really know how much time passed before he saw Dr. Beckett standing over him and he was wrenched from the walls he tried so hard to hide behind. His logical mind knew that Carson was trying to help, but all his compromised mind could process was that someone was going to touch him and he didn't think he could tolerate it.

Before Mason even knew he'd done anything, his body had already flinched away from the doctor.

_"I've got ta have a look, son." _

_ "Don't. Just don't," _he barely managed to get out.

"_Sergeant,_" Sheppard's authoritative tone cut through. "_Let the man do his job."_

From that point on, Mason had been forced to focus, to bring himself beyond what his instincts screamed at him to do and submit. Beckett's cursory exam had been swift and the doctor had taken care to avoid any contact that wasn't strictly necessary. The specific details of the quick consultation between the two men standing over him barely registered. He clung only the sounds of their voices. They were the only thing keeping him conscious.

_"Colonel, he's made it perfectly clear he doesn't want them."_

_ "We're way past what he wants, Carson. Push the meds."_

Mason's flimsy hold on the real world came into focus once more. _"No,"_ he'd choked out. _"I can't..."_

Sheppard's eyes had fixed in on him. His CO crouched down next to him. _"Why are you doing this to yourself, Capshaw? Just take the damn meds."_

He met Sheppard's gaze as well as he could._ "Do you know what it's like to go to sleep at night not knowing if you'll ever wake up? Twice, sir. Those damn things have almost killed me twice. I don't want to die like that. Like some coked out junkie. For nothing."_

Mason had looked up at Sheppard's hard in his eyes had wavered, but only for a split second before he said,_"Sergeant, I am responsible for the safety of every man, woman, and child in this city, and you've proven to me that as you are, you're a danger to yourself and to others. This time we got lucky that Dr. Keller wasn't seriously hurt..." _

_ "What are you talkin' about, Colonel?" _Beckett interrupted.

All of a sudden, Mason couldn't breathe. His eyes darted from side to side searching through his memory for when he might have... No, he couldn't have. Not her... Then, he'd heard the sound of his hand slamming around her wrist and he crumpled inside.

_"Capshaw assaulted Dr. Keller earlier."_

_ "Is she alright, Colonel?"_

Mason's head snapped to attention. All the pain racking his body didn't matter to him anymore. He silently pleaded with him to tell him that he hadn't inadvertently hurt someone he cared about more than he had any right to.

_"She's okay,"_ John told him. The colonel's attitude softened momentarily and he become less his CO and more his friend. _"Capshaw, I know you didn't mean to, but I also know that you can't possibly stay in control when you're like this. You are a highly trained soldier. Probably one of the best I've ever worked with. You're a part of my team and God knows, I want you to stick around, but sooner or later someone is gonna try to help you and they're going to get seriously hurt."_

While Mason was still reeling in horror at knowing he'd hurt Jennifer, Sheppard had stiffened up again. "_Now, either you cooperate willingly or I'll call in a team of men to hold you down while Dr. Beckett here takes care of business and you'll be spending your final days in Atlantis under armed guard. But either way, what happened with Dr. Keller _will_ be the end of it."_

Mason opened his eyes again and stared at the IV pole at his bedside. He watched the carefully timed drops of the clear medication falling down into his lines and from there, into his body. While his body reveled in the dulled sensation across his chest, his head knew better. Every drop that fell was potentially the one that would overwhelm his system and cause a fatal overdose. He could stop it right now. He could reach down and rip the IV out of his arm and accept the Colonel's decision as to his future. But, he knew he wouldn't. He couldn't take the risk. He'd stick with the meds until they stopped working or killed him. Whichever comes first.

_"I'll do it, sir...I'll do anything..."_

* * *

As always in Atlantis, the new day brought a new set of challenges. Woolsey was continuing his reign of organizational terror. In triplicate. Before John had even finished his coffee, McKay, Zalenka, Aileron, and Tratovsky all descended on his office demanding that he do something about it. According to Rodney, all of Woolsey's new directives regarding reporting procedures and safety protocols, designed to increase general efficiency, were "a ridiculous exercise in tail-chasing". In response to their belly aching, John promptly told them to take it up with the expedition leader himself and with a parting smile, kicked them out of his office.

He was ready to abandon his own paperwork when Chuck spoke through the comms.

"Colonel Sheppard, Major Lorne's jumper is inbound."

"Glad to hear it," John responded shortly.

"Sir, they're reporting widespread systems malfunctions."

John sat up at that and headed straight for the gateroom. He urgently followed up, "What's their status?"

"We're about to find out, sir."

He arrived in time to see the jumper arrive through the gate in that sudden rush and instantaneously come to a halt that many in the tower found disconcerting. He'd always found it really cool, but most of the time he preferred being on the other side.

The jumper hovered in place. Through the window, he could see the relief on Evan's face.

"Major, what seems to be the trouble," John probed.

"More like 'what isn't the trouble', Colonel. We just about lost every system. Attitude control, inertial dampeners, the drive pods, life support..." he listed.

"What happened?"

"You got me, sir. Everything was fine and then, poof. Did I mention the lightning?"

John frowned. "I must have missed that part, Major."

"Well, we nearly got hit by a bolt of electricity _inside_ the cockpit. We're lucky the systems came back online by themselves or we'd be toast about now, sir."

"Okay," John accepted. "Let's get her upstairs and see what's going on under the hood."

"Yes, sir."

As the malfunctioning jumper made the slow ascent into the jumper bay, John turned back to his earpiece with chagrin. "McKay, come in. This is Sheppard."

"What do you want?"

John smirked. Apparently, Rodney wasn't quite over his abrupt dismissal earlier. "I've got a mystery that needs solving. I need you and Radek in the jumper bay."

"So, when you need something I'm supposed to come running, but when I need something..."

"...I kick you out of my office. I'm glad we understand each other," John said, suppressing a chuckle. "Jumper bay, Rodney."

He could practically see McKay's lips tightening into thin lines as the cranky scientist replied, "Fine."

John fought to keep a straight face and turned to Chuck. "It's probably an isolated incident, but until we get things checked out and cleared, the rest of the jumpers are grounded. Pass it on, would you?"

"Sure, Colonel," the tech said. John was about to head upstairs and get a more detailed report from Lorne, when Chuck mentioned, "The betting pool is getting anxious, sir. Any word on whether it's a boy or a girl?"

"No, and if you know what's good for you, you won't mention anything about that to Teyla," John warned him. He didn't really care that half the people in the city had laid bets on everything from the sex of the baby to the birth date and height and weight. He'd thrown his hat into more than a few bets over the years and it was good for morale. But, he didn't think Teyla would be too comfortable with the idea. Of course, she was probably already aware of it and had chosen to ignore it. For Chuck's sake, though, he thought the policy of 'better safe, than sorry' was the best way to go.

"Yes, sir. I mean...no, sir."

* * *

Ronon Dex didn't often find himself in this situation. For a long time his world had been black and white. The only things that really mattered were his friends and exacting revenge on the Wraith. It was a simple life. Bloody, but simple. When it came to the gray areas, he was quickly realizing he was woefully out of practice. He had come to the infirmary looking for Jennifer and felt the unusual and unsettling sensation of butterflies in his stomach.

She was in her office on her computer doing who knew what. Whatever it was, she was intent on it and hadn't noticed his approach. His recent ordeal with Tyre had brought back all kinds of memories for him. Memories of how his life had been before. On Sateda, he'd had family, friends, comrades, and he'd had love. He'd had dreams of a life beyond the battlefield. Having a wife, kids, people to come home to at night, someone to grow old with. That had all changed when the Wraith came. He'd lost everything. His dreams died along with everyone he cared about. But somehow, seeing his old friend fighting and dying to regain who he'd been, made Ronon think hard about what he wanted. It was then that he recognized that his dreams were still there, hovering in the background. He still wanted all those things.

He'd come a long way since he stopped running. He'd made a new sort of family with his friends in Atlantis. While they weren't blood relatives, that familial bond had been sealed in blood with all they'd come through together. He would lay his life down in a heartbeat for any one of them and he knew they would do the same for him. Ronon smiled to himself. He was even going to be an uncle. He'd seen the way Sheppard and Teyla looked at each other for years and he'd never felt a pang of jealousy until now. They had something truly special and he wanted that, too.

Ronon observed Jennifer. She chewed her lower lip when she was concentrating on something and every so often she would tuck her hair behind her ear. She reminded him so much of Melena at times, he thought he was seeing a ghost. Soft, caring, sometimes a little naive, but surprisingly strong underneath. She was always pushing herself so hard to help people and couldn't be turned from it no matter what. A mournful twinge hit his chest. Melena's determination had also been her downfall and he'd had to watch her die right in front of him.

He didn't know if Jennifer was the one for him. They were so different. Hell, they weren't even from the same galaxy and he had reason to believe that her heart might already have been spoken for despite all claims to the contrary from both Jennifer and Capshaw. But he also knew that she was the first person to make him sit up and take notice in a long, long time and if he ever wanted to make those long-dormant dreams a reality, he was gonna have to get back out there sometime.

The lights suddenly dimmed overhead, breaking his train of thought, then returned to normal levels. _That was weird._

Ronon cleared his throat. "Hey," he said.

She sucked in a sharp breath as she saw him for the first time. "Oh, Ronon! You startled me!"

"Sorry."

He stepped forward with his hands in his pockets.

She shook her head and let out a small laugh at herself. "No, it's fine. Really. I guess I can get a little buried in this stuff sometimes."

"Anything interesting?" he asked mostly to be polite. He'd never needed to know the why's and how's of medicine. It worked. That's all he really cared about.

"Interesting? Always. Useful? Not so much," she admitted with sigh. "But, you never know what might turn up, right?"

"Right," he agreed.

After a momentary lapse in conversation, Jennifer gently probed, "Did you need me for something? You don't have another sparring casualty out there waiting for me, do you?"

He grinned. "Nope. Not this time." Then, gearing up he asked in a lower voice, "I, uh...I actually wanted to talk to you about that. Sparring...I mean..."

She just looked at him with a question in her eyes.

"I was thinking...we might start up those sparring lessons we talked about."

Realization swept over her face. "Oh, that's right. We did talk about that." With a tired smile, she went on. "It seems like so much has happened since then, it completely slipped my mind. I'm still not sure you want me to be swinging weapons around, though..."

"That's why you take lessons. To learn."

She nodded in agreement. She couldn't deny his logic. "If you're willing to take the risk, then...yeah. Sure."

Ronon stood up a little straighter, feeling like the hard part was out of the way. Jennifer reached out for the cup of coffee sitting on her desk. As she sipped, he saw a slight, but unquestionable wince.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Setting it down, she gave an appeasing smile. "It's fine, Ronon. Really. I'm just a little sore. It really isn't that big of a deal."

Then, he saw her face suddenly clouded over.

"This isn't about what happened last night, is it? Because, like I told Col. Sheppard, it was an accident and the situation's been resolved. Mason isn't any more a threat to me than you are."

Ronon felt his stomach lurch. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? He looked her over searching for some sign that she'd been hurt, but didn't see anything.

"No, that's...that's not it," he managed to get out. "Capshaw hurt you?"

"Ronon...no, no, no...Ronon...I thought you knew."

He had to leave. He could feel his temper rising and small talk wouldn't be on the menu for much longer. "I'll...I'll talk to you later," he mumbled with a growl before he spun around and charged out.

"Ronon, no! Please, wait!" he heard her call after him. It didn't slow him down.

* * *

In his lab, Dr. McKay was hurriedly packing up his equipment when the lights rolled overhead. It took them a few moments before they stabilized and lit up the room.

"Rodney?" John spoke through his radio.

"Go ahead," he replied.

"Are you messing around with the power, again? The lights are flickering."

Rodney scowled. _Of course! Anything goes wrong around here, it's automatically Rodney's fault._ "Yeah, I know. I'm getting reports from all over the place..." the scientist stated.

"Sounds an awful lot like what happened in that puddlejumper..."

"It can't be. I completely isolated the jumper's core. Whatever was effecting it couldn't have gotten into the city's computers..." he protested, then trailed off as the lights began to go in and out again.

"So, this is a coincidence?" John asked sarcastically. Obviously, he was seeing the same thing McKay was.

Rodney was about to come back with a biting retort, when things in his lab changed dramatically. A flash from across the room grabbed his attention. He barely had time to yell before a death-dealing bolt of displacement energy leaped from the consoles along the wall. Ricocheting violently across the room, it hit his metal lab table first. The force behind the impact threw his equipment into the air as scorched debris. The charge, having not been spent on the unfortunate table, headed straight for the next largest conductor in the room; a doomed physicist.

Rodney's eyes grew wide knowing that this was how he was going to die. The blinding white electricity arced toward him with ghastly speed and devastating proficiency. At least it would be quick. He slammed his eyes shut.

Nearly thirty seconds passed by before he realized that he was still breathing. Cautious and nervous, he timidly peeked through his closed lids. In shock, he sprang backward away from the swirling black mass that had formed inches in front of him. It hung in the air like the arm of a great creature. Then, McKay broadened the scope of his vision and saw why.

_Ooooh...crap!_

From the tabletop, the inky black tendrils of AD-765 had grown to gargantuan proportions along the path of the devastating current. McKay could see that the mass had enveloped the entire wall.

At a dead run, John flew into the lab.

"Rodney, what hap...?" he shouted, then with the whites of his eyes on display, he echoed McKay's earlier thoughts. "Holy crap! Rodney...what the hell happened in here?"

"I'm alive..." the scientist squeaked.

"I see that," John said. "Really. Great news...but what happened?"

"AD-765."

"Oh...okay..." John muttered, still stunned. "Rodney...it ate your lab."

"I'm alive..."

"Right..."

* * *

Mason opened his door and barely had time to think before Ronon's fist made contact with his jaw. He had been taken off-guard, but recovered quickly. He used the back of his left hand to check if he was bleeding. Finding nothing, he set eyes on the furious Satedan who looked like he was ready to eat him for lunch and Capshaw didn't blame him for one second.

Mason smirked. "Is that all you got? I gotta tell you, man. I've taken worse hits off McKay in line at the mess hall."

Ronon swung and the resulting blow made his head spin and nearly buckled his knees.

"That's more like it," he groaned. He dabbed at his lip again with his unbound hand. This time he came away with a streak of red. "I think I just figured out who it is you've got your eye on."

"You hurt her," Ronon growled.

"And don't you think for a second that I didn't want to belt you a few times after you did the same thing," Mason goaded him. "So, come on. Take your shots. I won't stop you."

The big marine could see he'd hit a nerve, but instead getting the beating he felt he deserved, Ronon reached out and took a hold of his weight rack. With a savage yell, he yanked it over, sending it face down on the floor and hurling the weights across the room.

With a disappointed grunt, Mason told him, "I've been wanting to do that for years."

Ronon, lungs surging from adrenaline, cast him a blank stare. "What stopped you?"

"Hell if I know. Did it feel good?"

"Yep."

Mason rolled his eyes. "Figures."

"I never meant to hurt her," Ronon stated, his guilt over the incident still plain.

"Neither did I," Mason commiserated. "The way I see it, between the two of us, you're the lucky one. You got screwed over by the Wraith. I don't have that excuse."

Ronon nodded at his bandaged hand, asking without words.

"I didn't like the guy looking back at me in the mirror," Mason shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

The ripe tension between the two men having died down to a static charge, Mason turned his back on Ronon and sat down on the bed.

"So, what are we gonna do about it?" Ronon's rocky voice asked.

Mason waved it off. "Nothing to do. We're good."

"I meant...this thing with Jennifer."

* * *

John saw Richard Woolsey walking into the tower, looking like he'd been walking for quite a while. "Where've you been?"

"On the other side of the city," he frowned. "A transporter malfunctioned and sent me to the East Pier. I had to walk all the way back. I tried to radio you."

"Yeah, well. Communications are down," John explained. He had tried calling Teyla a hundred times with no success. He just hoped she was okay.

Woolsey said, "I was almost hit by a bolt of lightning."

"Join the club!" Rodney exclaimed from where he was speedily working on the city's computer terminal. "We've got power disruptions all over the city. The energy builds up in one area and then discharges in a high-voltage displacement current. Very erratic, and very lethal."

"We think whatever's wrong with the jumper has infected Atlantis," Sheppard put in.

"It's one of several possibilities," McKay commented.

"Several?" John followed up incredulously.

"It's a possibility, alright? The point is, we have no idea what's going on here. I've just gotta run a few diagnostics, narrow down the..."

The lights in the control room died, bathing them all in darkness. The equipment had all gone silent, as well as the personnel inhabiting the control tower. John looked out the windows. Power had gone out all over the city.

"That can't be good," he quipped.

"Okay, okay," Richard started. "We need to organize some teams, fan out through the city, keep everyone calm until we figure out exactly what the..."

A small beep from Rodney's computer brought the planning to a halt. John walked back over to the control terminal.

"The laptop just booted up," McKay said.

"It's probably just the battery," John commented.

"No...it's drawing power from the system."

Woolsey questioned, "So, everything's out except _your_ computer?"

John and Richard stared at Rodney. "What am I? A magic eight ball? I'm just as confused as you are!"

Bringing the argument to an effective close, incomprehensible code began typing itself across Rodney's screen. The text seemed to alter itself over and over, but never made any more sense to anyone, until it finally formed into the simple word "Help".

The men exchanged cautious and perplexed looks. Taking the initiative, Rodney leaned over and typed in, "Who are you?"

The pattern of garbled letters repeated itself. John stood with his arms folded over his chest awaiting and preparing himself for whatever was coming. But no one was more surprised than he was when it ceased.

"Elizabeth Weir."

* * *

"I don't think it's a good idea, Teyla. Whoever is in there, it may not be Elizabeth."

Standing outside the closed door where inside, a recently built replicator claiming to be their fallen friend sat, John was uneasy. They both wanted to believe that somehow Dr. Weir wasn't dead. Teyla wanted to be able to speak with her friend again. As did John, but he also wanted so badly for it to be her, so he could release himself from some of his regret at having left her behind in the hands of the enemy.

"And I will have you and the other guards watching at all times," Teyla reminded John, squeezing his hand. "But, if that is Elizabeth..."

"I know," John finished. "Let's just keep this short, okay? If that really is her in there, we'll have time later to talk, okay?"

Teyla nodded. A nervous smile played at her lips. "Okay."

Without releasing his tight grip on her hand, John led the way. Inside, the two armed men gave him a curt, acknowledging nod. FRAN, or Elizabeth as she was claiming to be, looked up from the chair where she sat. John stayed in between Teyla and Elizabeth as much as he could until he felt a patient, but firm nudge from Teyla requesting that he step aside.

John saw the surprise in Elizabeth's face. He imagined it would be, seeing the implications of their entwined hands and the soccer ball hiding underneath Teyla's top.

"Teyla..." she said softly.

"Dr. Weir," Teyla returned the greeting politely.

She asked, "A child?"

Teyla's arm protectively, but fondly reached over her stomach. "Yes."

Elizabeth looked up from her chair at him, meeting his wary stare. "Can I assume that...?"

"John is the father," Teyla answered her.

Despite the tension in the room, it occurred to him that he liked the way that sounded. It did something for the more primitive male side to him. He looked into Elizabeth's eyes and in his posture confirmed what Teyla said. He and Teyla were in love. He was the father of that child and he was proud to be.

Elizabeth cracked a smile. Although taken off guard, that she was pleased was apparent. "That's...that's amazing. Congratulations. To both of you."

She stood up in the attitude of wanting to give Teyla a hug, but John and his men were not about to let that happen. Not with so many questions still unanswered and so much suspicion still on the table. John replaced himself in between the two women as weapons were raised at their sides.

Teyla gripped him with both hands. "John, it is alright."

He glanced around to her, but didn't move. To Elizabeth, he laid it all out. "Look...we all want to believe you are who you say you are..."

"I understand. You have to be cautious. But it is really is me, John. You just have to give me time. You'll see that..."

Elizabeth stared unseeingly into the distance.

"Oh, no..." she muttered.

John's grip on Teyla's hand clamped down. "What's wrong?"

"They've found me."

* * *

Things were tense. The Replicators were under lockdown in one of the science labs professing to be solely interested in creating human bodies for themselves, but Jennifer couldn't help but think something else was bound to go wrong. After all, the first thing they'd done when they'd arrived was threaten to sink the city if they didn't cooperate. And Dr. Weir, back from the dead...again...and in replicator form? Oh, yeah. Things were tense. She held herself at the ready in the infirmary, just in case.

With not even a single patient waiting in the wings at this point, she sat at her desk perusing Rodney's files on AD-765. He'd managed to get some photos of the small device's mammoth reaction to the lightening strike before the city's power outage caused it to return to its original, more diminutive form. It was a mysterious little thing, that was for sure. All the information they had in the database said that it was designed to harness and contain aberrant electrical impulses, like some sort of patch. It wasn't designed for anything nearly as strong as the displacement current that had been flying unchecked through the city, but fortunately for Rodney, it seemed to be capable of more than even the Ancients had predicted. But, in general, there wasn't much to go on. According to the records, it was still in the experimental stages. There was no real data on it to speak of, short term or long term. It hadn't ever been properly tested on living subjects even though it had been designed to work on the body's unique electrical signals, as well.

"Good reading?" an affable baritone asked from the doorway. "Does the hero get to save the damsel in distress?"

She looked up at the handsome blonde leaning in the frame. "Not this time."

"Too bad. I know you're a sucker for a happy ending."

"Yeah. But, this isn't a fairy tale." She spun her computer around, allowing him to see the research she was browsing.

"No, it's not," he confirmed, looking beyond the research at her.

Jennifer shook her head at him. "Mason...Col. Sheppard will throw you in a holding cell if he finds out you were here."

He quit his easy posture and stood up straighter, tenser. He was uncharacteristically anxious. He kept lightly batting his bandaged hand against his thigh. "Do you want me in a holding cell?"

"No," she said quietly.

"I wouldn't blame you if you did."

"I don't, okay?" she came back, stronger, surer this time. "I don't."

He allowed the traces of a smile to make themselves known. "Then, I'm good with taking the risk."

She didn't know what to say to that, so they fell into one of their loaded pauses. Usually, it was to avoid an argument, but sometimes it was to avoid saying things that maybe danced a little too close to the line they'd drawn for themselves in the beginning of their friendship. Mason started with the tapping against his pant leg.

"Jen," he got out. He was trying to keep eye contact with her, but he was struggling. His light eyes kept flitting to the floor or his shoes or even her desktop. "I just...I had to make sure. I had to see for myself you were okay. And to say...I'm sorry."

In that moment, his blue eyes met hers and she was struck with an intensity that she'd seen before. Only then, she hadn't understood the feeling behind it. She'd only thought he was showing concern for her well-being out of a sense of friendship. She knew differently now.

"Mason, I, um..." she grasped for the right thing to say. The problem was she didn't know what she wanted to say and she cursed herself for the uncertainty that seemed prevalent to her psyche.

Suddenly, the lights went dead and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

"Mason?" she whispered. Her pupils hadn't adjusted to change in the light level and for a moment, she couldn't see him.

A quiet "shh" came from the direction of where he had been.

Jennifer carefully maneuvered her way across the dark office to where he was. She whispered, "The replicators?"

"Probably," came his hissed reply. He slowly walked through the black infirmary toward the main entrance and she followed with him. "I'm gonna go check it out. You got any guns in here?"

"Infirmary, not armory," she heard herself say. Funny. She'd said that exact thing to Ronon a while back. Maybe, she should start thinking about keeping a stunner in her desk or something for emergencies. "Besides, what are you gonna do if you run into trouble? Club the replicator over the head with your mummy hand?"

"I actually thought I'd use the whole arm, if it's all the same to you."

Jennifer found herself fighting to keep herself from laughing. "Don't be an idiot, Mason. If something's gone wrong, Colonel Sheppard's got a bunch of guys on it already. Guys _with_ guns."

"Don't remind me."

She could hear the slight annoyance in his breathed response. He didn't like being left on the sidelines any more than Ronon or John did.

Their debate was interrupted by the sound of hurried footfalls pattering down the corridor. A single set from the sound of it. From what little ambient lighting remained, Jennifer made out a male replicator.

"Koracen," she whispered and nearly shrieked, forgetting herself for a moment.

Mason's arms immediately encircled her, his good one covering her mouth and the other wrapping around her waist. Pulled tight against him, he carried her back away from the entrance into the infirmary. She could feel the heat and definition of the muscles she had seen before but never really looked at. Once he found a sheltered corner, he placed her against the wall with his body between hers and the only way the replicator could come at them, should he have heard her exclamation.

A stern "shh" came at her again from his lips. They stood together, nerves standing on end and bodies on edge. Even though her eyes had adjusted, it was still difficult to see in the darkness, but she could see the outline of his profile inches from her, listening for the slightest sound of trouble. He hadn't shaved in a few days. Not a naturally hairy guy, even with a few days worth of growth, it still didn't amount to much. She didn't know why that popped into her head. It certainly wasn't the best time to get distracted by his grooming habits, but...there it was.

The footsteps resumed and grew farther away.

"Is he...is he gone?" she dared to ask.

His head whipped to face her. Thinking she heard the steps getting closer and Mason's head turning back to where the noise was coming from, Jennifer inhaled sharply. The next thing she knew, his lips had descended on hers, cutting off the noise she had accidentally made. Her body stiffened in surprise. They held together, locked into place, lips stationary but very much together. Mason's hot breath tickled her cheeks, but she wasn't even tempted to laugh as his bandaged hand pulled her close.

An eternity later, he tore away from her and left her side. He moved to the main doors to search for any sign of the runaway replicator. The way he started to relax she guessed that the coast was clear. She saw a minute shake of his head as he walked back toward her.

"Next time, that should probably be plan A," he commented.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It got you quiet, didn't it?"

Disappointment crept in. "Was that all it was? Good strategy?"

His vigil no longer necessary, Mason returned to where he'd deposited her. "Jennifer..." he said with a non-committal groan.

"Why can't you talk to me?" she wondered aloud. "We used to talk. We used to have fun together. Are you still angry with me about last night?"

Now, it was his turn to laugh. Through the low rumbling, he told her, "I was never mad at _you_. I don't think I've ever been mad at you. At myself, at this twisted situation, at the unfairness of the universe...whatever you want to call it. I was mad at that. Not you. And I couldn't be sorrier for making you feel that way."

Jennifer reached for him as she had last night, but this time it wasn't met with a pain-fueled, emotionally charged reaction. He let her touch him and even seemed to enjoy it.

The lights around the city came on again overhead. Surrounded by the unclouded luminescence, Mason stiffened and backed away. Having a sense that reality was returning to him, she allowed him the escape and let him slide away from her grasp.

With his jaw tense, he said, "I wish I could say I didn't mean everything I said, but there were some things...I can't be your friend, Jennifer. I don't want to be your friend. But, I can't be anything else, either."

Jennifer could feel that terrible sensation of a knot forming in her throat. She managed a small, "So, that's it?"

"That's it."

* * *

Elizabeth stepped up to the gate. There wasn't any doubt in John's mind who it was standing in front of him. Only Elizabeth would be willing to make this kind of sacrifice for Atlantis.

_"Haven't you done enough already?"_

_ "John, listen to me. I had to bring them here. It was our only chance; our only way out. I didn't know that Koracen would cause this kind of trouble. I didn't think that anyone would get hurt."_

_ "What did you think we were gonna do? Just give you a bunch of replicator bodies and send you on your way?"_

_ "I truly believed we were no threat to you."_

_ "You may still think that you're Elizabeth, but you're not."_

He seen the pain his words had caused, but even after she'd defended him from Koracen and shattered his body back into it's base elements, he still wasn't entirely convinced it was her. It wasn't until they were in Woolsey's office that the truth hammered itself home. Woolsey had offered her and the others one last chance to create the human bodies they claimed to want. He'd signed off on it with the condition that they beef up security. But to everyone's surprise, she'd refused. She wasn't willing to risk any more lives.

_"It was good to see you again, John. You're happy. I can tell."_

He hadn't known what to say. He never really did in these situations. Nothing ever seemed right or good enough. The only person he'd ever managed to get over that huge hurdle with was Teyla and even then, he still struggled with it. He got by mostly on luck with her. She knew him better than anyone and most of the time, she knew what he wanted to say better than he did.

_"Tell Teyla, if you would, that I'm sorry."_

He'd managed a stiff nod at that, at least.

_"You have a beautiful family, John. I hope you have a good life."_

With Teyla by his side in the gateroom, he was impressed with a faint, but distinct sadness that didn't belong to him but echoed his own feelings. John looked at the event horizon and wished he could at least say a proper goodbye. But, again, he found that goodbye was too simple and wasn't good enough. So, he watched Elizabeth step through the gate and call the other Replicators to her. They had no idea she was setting them up. That all they would meet on the other side was the frigid vacuum of space.

The stargate shut down, leaving the people of Atlantis to grieve for Elizabeth one last time. John took Teyla by the hand and walked her home in silence.

* * *

Author's Notes: Tag to **Ghost in the Machine** written by **Carl Binder**. I tried to take as little dialog from the actual episode as possible, but sometimes it was necessary to tell the story. I did put my own AU spin on it by flipping things around and taking lines from one character and letting another have a crack at them.

-Once again, I apologize for the long wait. I hit a creative wall and it took a while to find my way around it. Thanks to **jeyla4ever** for allowing me pick her brain.

-And for those of you reading, please click the little button on the bottom and let me know what you're thinking. There are aspects to this story that I'm making up as I go and if you want to see certain things happen, you have to speak up! Otherwise, you're just stuck with what I come up with... =) All constructive criticisms are welcome and opinions are appreciated!

-**firedew**


	13. The Little Things

Author's Notes: Tag to **The Shrine **written amazingly by **Brad Wright**. Oh, my heavens! I'm so sorry it's been so long! Real life is to blame this time. Summertime means the extended family descending, lots and lots of time with the kids, and the tiny 5,500 acre wildfire burning practically in my backyard and the sleepless nights it brought with it, all tend to get in the way of my writing time. But just so you guys don't worry, I have no intentions of leaving this story unfinished. I'm not going to flake out on this, so please bear with me. In compensation for my terrible turn around time, I offer you yet another very long chapter gift-wrapped with a big, red J/T sized bow. I hope you like it. Thank you for all your support and pray the dedicated firefighters out there are able to get that fire out safely and soon!

* * *

**Chapter 13 – The Little Things**

xo

The instant he stepped from the wormhole, John couldn't breathe. He felt his heart skip a beat in reaction to the freezing wall of water enveloping him. His feet no longer underneath him and trying to remain calm, John opened his eyes trying to orient himself and figure out which way was up. It was a harder task than it should have been. It was nighttime on this planet, but fortunately the moon overhead shone through the dark water like a beacon. John kicked toward the light and broke the surface.

"Ronon!" John yelled. His head whipped in every direction and saw nothing but the top of the gate and water engulfing the entire valley. The warrior had been right behind him. He should have come up by now. "Ronon!"

A second later and having drifted a few yards away, Ronon roared upward, creating new waves as he came.

"Sheppard!"

John exhaled in relief. "You had me worried for a second, Chewie."

"Sorry. I wasn't planning on going for a swim."

"Neither was I."

As he spoke, John could feel the cold seeping through his skin all the way down to his bones. With a nod toward the visible part of the gate, John said, "We gotta get out of this water. See if you can't climb on up there. I'm gonna find the DHD and dial Atlantis."

Ronon, weighed down by his soaked leather clothes, swam toward the great silver arch of the Stargate while John's already quivering hands fumbled in his TAC vest for a flashlight. He was never so glad that most of his equipment was designed to be waterproof. With the flick of a switch, the little white light came to life. John swam out to where the DHD's tended to be positioned; a safe distance from the Gate, but unfortunately in this case, also under a hell of a lot of water. John took a few long preparatory breaths, then with a final deep inhale, dove.

With the temperature this cold, he couldn't afford to spend a lot of time swimming through the glacial runoff searching for the device. But for once, luck was on his side. The DHD was almost precisely below him. Right on target, the little flashlight lit the way down. John could feel the pressure shifting in his ears to adjust to the depth. He must have been at least twenty feet down. With the device in reach, he placed the flashlight between his teeth to illuminate the buttons and dialed the city as quickly as he could. Under the frigid water, the normally already watery looking vortex opened, appearing like an explosion of light in John's eyes. With his objective accomplished and his lungs tightening in his chest, vigorously complaining about how long he'd been under, John pushed off the edge of the DHD and kicked rapidly to propel him upward.

* * *

In the Gateroom, Teyla stood with Mr. Woolsey to see off John and Ronon. It was simple mission. Find the errant Dr. Nichols and reprimand him for his tardiness in checking in from the research camp on M44-5YN.

"Want me to smack him around or anything?" John had jokingly offered.

Teyla had stifled a grin at Mr. Woolsey's deadpan reaction. "Just the reminder, please."

The two men marched through the Gate as they had countless times before and the Gate shut down behind them. Teyla turned to Amelia.

"I would love to host the next poker night. Jennifer informed me it was your turn, but I have missed much and I would like the chance to make it up to everyone," she offered.

"That sounds great, actually. I can't I was looking forward to clean-up duty, anyhow," Amelia admitted with relief. "It's good to have you back, Teyla."

Teyla whispered a small thank you before Mr. Woolsey addressed her in his naturally formal demeanor.

"It will probably take them some time to get to the camp, and then more time for Dr. Nichols to get back to the Gate and report. If you'd care to, Teyla, we probably have time to get some breakfast and discuss the debriefing for the mission to Memas," Richard proposed.

She had taken this last week to readjust to being in the city and working alongside Mr. Woolsey and John to determine where best she could contribute. With the discovery of her pregnancy, her off-world missions with Maj. Lorne's team had immediately ceased and since that time, she had been wearing the mantle of the Athosian leader, in the city and later, when her people relocated. But with her people settled and back under Halling's careful and ever watchful stewardship and not being one to sit idle for long, Teyla had needed to find a new function for herself.

Her extensive knowledge of the different peoples of the galaxy and personal contacts would be put to more widespread use as diplomatic and trade council for Mr. Woolsey and the off-world teams interacting with the various cultures in their travels. Maj. Santiago's team was due for a mission to a notoriously reclusive people and it was Teyla's job to make recommendations on how to best proceed in opening talks with them.

She was moderately surprised at Mr. Woolsey's offer to share a meal with her. To this point, every attempt she and the others had made to befriend him during their off-duty hours had been met with polite excuses. The man probably felt very isolated in this alien environment. He was no doubt accustomed to keeping a strict professional distance when it came to his work. But that sort of thinking wouldn't due in Atlantis, where those you worked with were those you also spent your evenings with. They would eventually become your friends and family. It was unique place and she wanted to help him become a part of it. To help him feel more at home.

"That would be lovely, Mr. Woolsey. Thank you."

She smiled and took Richard's gentlemanly offer of an arm. They proceeded toward the mess hall.

Behind them, the Gate suddenly lit up and started receiving an incoming address.

"Unscheduled off-world activation," Amelia reported to them as they came back.

"Activate the shield!" Woolsey ordered.

The shield's mosaic of color flashed over the Gate.

Amelia looked up from her station. "I'm not receiving an IDC."

Teyla held her breath, hearing John's shaky voice chime in over the intercom. "Atlantis, this is Sheppard. Do _not_ lower the shield. The entire tower will be flooded."

"John, are you alright?" Teyla found herself asking, her heart racing.

"Yeah, Teyla. Just cold and wet. The Stargate's under water. The entire valley's flooded. We need you to send a jumper through so we can stay warm and dry until the water recedes."

Woolsey answered, "Will do, Colonel. Hold on."

"Holding on. Sheppard out."

* * *

John and Ronon lay across their silver lifeboat in their sodden clothing, shivering with cold.

"Why isn't the Gate shutting down?" Ronon asked from his prone position.

"Probably something to do with the water pressure. Thirty-eight minutes and it'll shut off by itself," John reasoned. The colonel's chest rattled and he let out a half-formed cough.

"You okay?"

John scowled. "You know that cold McKay's been nursing? I think he gave it to me."

"Great."

"At least, he's not here. That's a pleasant picture," John said sarcastically. "Lucky for us, he's too in love with that Ancient lightning rod thingy to be bothered to come on a babysitting mission."

* * *

It was late afternoon, Atlantis-time, but to John and Ronon, they'd just spent a long night in the back of a puddlejumper. With blankets wrapped around them, they stepped through the Gate where Teyla and Woolsey were waiting.

She had taken one look at John and knew something was wrong. That he looked tired wasn't unusual or unexpected. What she didn't expect was the pale pallor of his skin and the slight cough he was doing his best to smother.

"Why didn't you return in the jumper I sent you?" Richard inquired.

"I ordered the rescue party to continue the search for Nichols' team. There's a chance they're still alive."

Woolsey nodded. "Of course. I think you've just made a case for my proposal to send a MALP ahead of every single transit."

John grimaced at his overreaction to what really amounted to a relatively minor incident and pointed out, "Stuff happens, Woolsey. Besides, I don't think the IOA would be too thrilled about taking on the extra expense at this point. Do you?"

Finding Sheppard's argument hitting a little too close for his liking, the expedition leader acquiesced. The forthcoming visit from the IOA had the man wound as tight as a drum.

John blinked and in an unsteady voice stated, "I'm gonna go get checked out."

From nearby, Ronon caught his woozy demeanor and so did Teyla.

"John?"

"Sheppard?"

John's eyes tried to focus on Teyla and reached for her. He gripped her, feeling his world spinning out of control. The small part of him that was still aware told him to let go of her, but got no response. Teyla clung to him as his legs started to turn to jelly and his body began to sag. From behind the dark curtain he was rapidly disappearing behind, he could feel his weight dragging her down.

"John! John!"

Before the lights went out, John felt Ronon's formidable arms join Teyla's.

* * *

"Can I go? I feel ridiculous laying here. It's just a cold," John argued.

"I didn't see anything on the scanner, but I'd like to keep you here for observation a while longer, Colonel," Jennifer told him, fielding the complaint like a seasoned pro.

"I'm fine."

Teyla, by his bedside, sighed. "You lost consciousness, John. Please allow Dr. Keller to do what she feels is necessary. If, indeed, it is simply a cold, then you will be permitted to leave soon enough."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, annoyed with her flawless logic and the fact that he loved her so much he could hardly begrudge her a few more hours of infirmary time. "How am I supposed to argue with that?"

"I suggest that you do not," she said sternly.

He didn't. From the way she was looking at him, he had the distinct impression that any attempt at escape would be met with a swift ass kicking. Pregnant or not.

Dr. Keller let them alone and Teyla leaned her forehead onto her propped up hand. John reached out and tenderly brushed her arm.

"Hey..."

Teyla's brown eyes lifted up and met his. In the week since that initial glimpse into her mind, John had gotten a few more brief peeks into her. That powerful feeling wasn't around right now and he didn't need it. He knew what was going on in her head. They never had gotten used to things like this happening. They had managed well enough when they were teammates and had to keep their true feelings under lock and key. But since their relationship had changed and they'd been allowed to show the worry that churned inside, every time one of them wound up in the infirmary, it was hard. Too hard.

"I'm sorry."

"You frightened me, John."

"I know. But, I'm gonna be fine. I'm gonna be up and out of here in no time."

Teyla's frown softened and she reached out to stroke the hair spilling over his forehead. "I know you will."

* * *

It was a bit like trying to hold a fine mist in the palm of her hand. No matter how she reached, Teyla couldn't quite touch the warm halo nestled in the back of her consciousness. It had taken a few more unexpected brushes with the curious, extraordinary feeling to even recognize it's presence, but now that she had, she desperately wanted to make contact. To be open with her child, to let the little one know that they were loved and perhaps, get a glimpse of their mind as she had been intermittently allowed with John. She stretched out a spectral hand toward it once again, and was again thwarted.

Sitting on top of her bed with her legs crossed in front of her, Teyla frowned. Without opening her eyes, she worked to recenter herself. It was growing taxing just making these attempts and the frustration she was feeling was only getting in the way. She hadn't had this much trouble linking her mind with another since the first time she connected with the hive collective of the Wraith. Her talents had grown by miles since that time, so her inability to do so simple a task as to reach her own child confounded her.

"Still having trouble?" John asked. She could hear him moving around their bedroom, near the dresser.

With a heavy sigh, she realized her focus was irrevocably lost. But, frankly, she welcomed the distraction. Especially when it came in the form of a gorgeous, rugged male specimen she cherished. His ability to divert her at the times when she most needed it was uncanny.

Opening her eyes and with a disappointed expression painting her face, she inquired, "Is it that obvious?"

"Little bit."

Having recovered remarkably fast from his cold, it was two days later and it was as though nothing had ever happened. If anything, he was acting more refreshed and freer than he had been in some time. As though he'd let go of the heartache of losing Elizabeth, the responsibility he felt over having his team fraying at the edges, and the pain of being apart from her. Since being released from the infirmary, nothing seemed to bother him.

He was fastening his watch to his wrist, then settled down on the bed next to her. The mattress shifted slightly taking her body along with it.

With a big exhale, Teyla admitted, "I do not believe I have ever had such a hard time establishing a mental connection before."

"You're sure the baby has the Wraith gene?"

"I can sense it, John. This child possesses the gift," Teyla confirmed for him. "But, it is unlike any mind I have ever encountered. It is elusive. Strange."

John's crooked smirk appeared. "Don't mention that around McKay. Next thing you know, he'll be spouting off about how the baby's taking after me already." His hand came to rest on her knee. "And I wouldn't worry too much about it, Teyla. You've never done anything exactly like this before and...the kiddo may just be too young for all this telepathic stuff."

Teyla accepted his reassurance, but she had her doubts. Each time they had accidentally forged a link, she got a vague sense of the raw potential already residing inside her, waiting for her. Teyla's hand moved to stroke his.

"You are probably right."

After a few moments, John adopted a funny expression.

"What is it, John?"

Then with a devilish flash, he said, "You're killing me. You know that, right?"

With a placid smile and an angelic countenance, Teyla responded, "I have no idea what you are referring to, John."

"You don't usually meditate in nothing but one of my t-shirts and your panties," he pointed out.

She cocked one eyebrow and reasoned, "Your shirt is quite comfortable and it is early, John. I have not felt the desire to dress for the day, yet."

"Do you think it'd break your concentration if I came over there and...took them off?" he asked.

At that, she spared him a grin and looked him over. Freshly shaven and in his workout clothes, she asked, "Are you not supposed to be running with Ronon shortly?"

With a glance at his watch, he replied, "That's not for a whole...ten minutes."

She didn't bother hiding how underwhelming that sounded. "How romantic of you, John."

The way he mischievously bit his lower lip, and the muscle visible beneath the snug white t-shirt he was in made her stomach flip. Undeterred by her skepticism, his hands teased their way up her leg and sneaked around her hips, playing at the black lace he found so distracting. She raised her hip slightly, allowing him to work them downward. The feel of his rough fingers up against her smooth skin quashed any thought of protest. His lips crushed against hers. His tongue slyly sought entrance into her mouth while his body edged hers down onto the mattress. One of his knees occupied itself by slowly spreading her legs.

Very aware of their time constraints and having no desire for Ronon to show up while they were in such a compromising position, Teyla was surprised that John seemed in no hurry to release his own unmistakeable desire and shed his pants. With a tantalizing parting bite to her lower lip, his head lowered and disappeared down her body. Teyla's eyes widened. She didn't expect their rushed liaison to take this particular turn.

Her breath ragged in anticipation of his attentions, she whispered, "John, what are you doing?"

She heard a deep chuckle roll from him.

"If you don't know, I don't do this often enough."

"John..." she gasped feeling his tongue against her soft, moist flesh below. "...John...uhh...what about...Ronon...?"

"Ronon can fend for himself for a while," he murmured. "I'm busy."

* * *

He knew he'd asked for this. Pushed for it. It was, after all, the smart thing. Ronon thought every single person in the city should be able to defend themselves, even the civilians. But, it still felt weird throwing punches at Jennifer. True, they were slow for him, highly controlled, and he could put a stop to them in an instant, but it brought back flashes of memory he'd rather forget.

"Arms up higher," he told her.

"I'm doing this wrong, aren't I?" Jennifer asked apprehensively.

Her fists balled up and her arms braced to her sides, she looked about as rigid as a person could be without cracking. And they hadn't even gotten to the hard stuff yet. This was just lesson number one in Ronon's school of combat. Blocking.

"You're doing fine," he appeased her. As he spoke, he demonstrated what to do with his own body. "Just relax a little bit. Stay loose. You get too tight and you won't be fast enough to counter and you're dead."

She rolled her eyes and said, "Thank you. Really. That makes me feel so much better."

Ronon threw a slow, easy tap to her arm to knock some of the stiffness out of her. "Get some of the tension out of your hands and let your arms do the work. Now, arms up."

Jennifer took a deep breath and did a little dance in place designed to help her relax. She obediently raised her arms and asked, "You really do this for fun?"

"You don't think this is fun?" he asked with an amused expression. He struck again and Jennifer brought up her small arm to absorb the blow. "Good."

"Not really," she managed, biting her lips in anticipation of the next hit.

"What do you do for fun?" he asked, honestly curious, but never losing his focus. He struck again and was again met with a quick reaction from the doctor.

"Well, there's, you know...watching movies with everybody, poker night..."

Ronon threw another punch. "What about when it's just you?"

He grinned again at the impressive response he got. Talking about something and taking her eternally busy mind off the target in front of her was helping her loosen up and he was getting better results. He decided to change it up and come at her from a different angle this time.

"Oh, I don't know..." she started, until she saw the change in his pattern and an arm coming from overhead instead from the side. She grimaced, but managed to get her arm up in time to cover and repel his attack.

"Really good. Keep going," he encouraged her. "So, what do you do?"

"Mostly, I read. I take a bubble bath. I've been know to..." she blocked him again. "...give myself a pedicure on special occasions."

"Pedicure?"

"Yeah..." she paused, taking another blow and sending it back. She finished with a sheepish explanation. "I make my toenails look pretty."

Ronon dropped his attack and cocked an eyebrow at her trying to imagine what that could look like. "Hmm," he grunted. "And that's fun?"

She gave a little shrug. "Fun might be too strong a word, but it's relaxing. I can turn on some music and just turn my brain off for while."

Ronon sent his fists at her, this time in a more complicated combination. He gave a swift jab to the right, which she intercepted with ease, and followed it up with a pair of lefts and found himself thwarted when he went for her head. He even threw in a right cross for good measure and Jennifer seemed to be right on top of it.

The big warrior nodded in approval. She had stated her problem perfectly. If he could find a way to get her out of her head and out of her own way, she could have some real potential. He didn't see her putting in the time and work it took to become really proficient, but she would be able to defend herself and that was all he really wanted anyway.

"That's enough for today."

"Really?" she asked unbelieving. Her brow was starting to bead in sweat and she was out of breath, but she seemed surprised they were done.

"Really. What did you expect?"

"Well...more blood for starters," she replied.

"Next time," he stated soberly as they walked to pick up their bags.

Then, when Jennifer turned whiter than usual, his bearded face erupted in a grin.

"And they say you have no sense of humor," her exasperation mixed heavily with relief.

Ronon picked up her bag and handed it to her, then threw his over his shoulder. He was rusty this, at the whole process of starting up a courtship. He'd had a few frantic, meaningless encounters while he was still on the run. They had been strictly to ebb his needs and hardly qualified. In reality, Melena had been the last. And the first. And he hadn't really been good at it then, either. "Do you, maybe, wanna...do something?"

"Something?"

"Yeah."

She smiled, genuinely intrigued and Ronon felt a little more a ease. "What did you have in mind?"

"We could go grab some lunch," he suggested with a shrug.

Jennifer looked up at him and told him, "I, um...I actually made plans to meet Teyla. You wouldn't want to join us, would you?"

"Yeah, why not?" he agreed readily. He was actually a little relieved to know that Teyla would be there. The more he thought about the idea of being alone with the doctor outside the gym, his comfort zone, the more he thought maybe he wasn't quite ready for this.

* * *

"Ronon," Teyla greeted the tall Satedan. With a tray of food already in front of her, she had been awaiting Jennifer's arrival to start eating. Then, much to her astonishment, she had emerged in the mess hall in Ronon's stoic company.

"You don't mind, do you?" Jennifer asked her. "Ronon and I just finish our first sparring lesson and I survived. So we're having a little celebratory lunch."

Teyla looked to Ronon to confirm what she'd heard. She tried to picture the cherubic Dr. Keller swinging a pair of bantos rods up against the imposing warrior or a Wraith, for that matter. After witnessing Dr. Keller in action firsthand on New Athos, when her people had been discovered missing, the image didn't quite click in Teyla's mind.

"Yeah," he nodded. "She did good."

"In that case, this _is_ a cause for celebration and you are very welcome, Ronon," Teyla offered.

Ronon offered with a nonchalant wave toward the line ahead of them, "I can go get our food, if you want."

"Are you sure?"

"It's no problem," he rumbled.

"Okay," Jennifer offered him a smile and he moved off to take his place at the back of the short line.

Dr. Keller took her seat across from the intrigued woman, appearing relieved to be able to rest for a moment.

"Since when did you begin expressing an interest in learning to fight?" Teyla inquired in her diplomatic way. She had proposed to teach Jennifer on several occasions but had always been met with a dubious and firm denial.

"Ronon offered and...after all that's happened recently, I realized that he's probably right. Things can get pretty crazy around this place and I should at least learn the basics."

"You mean the incident with Sgt. Capshaw," Teyla surmised.

Jennifer let the comment slide by, plainly happier to avoid the subject altogether. "You seem surprised."

"I am impressed, Jennifer. I have always been of the opinion that everyone in Atlantis should learn the basics of self-defense. It is a hard place to be, this galaxy, and it will do you good to be prepared," she replied. Teyla looked at her large friend, amassing his usual pile of food on one tray and a distinctly smaller one on a second. Turning to Jennifer, she subtly pointed out, "Ronon is not one to take many beginners under his tutelage. I believe Rodney was the last person he attempted it with and, in case you have not noticed, it did not go very well. He prefers working with the soldiers under John's command. Most of them arrive already with a solid foundation to build upon and are more suited to Ronon's...temperament. Many of the civilians that have come to me wanting to learn tend to find him too...intimidating."

A huff escape Jennifer in complete agreement. "I can definitely understand that. I mean, I know Ronon. He's a great guy, but when he's all...wound up and ready to kill something...It's a little scary."

Teyla smiled, understanding her shy friend's trepidation. The Satedan's mammoth size, tattooed skin, his expert skills, and impressive strength would have been enough to stir fear in the hearts of many even without the savagery he had honed at the hands of the Wraith. "In any case, congratulations on your first lesson. I am sure Ronon was very pleased with your performance."

"Ronon? Heck, I'm pleased," Jennifer confessed. "I half expected to be spending my lunch today warming a bed in the infirmary."

"I am sure that Ronon took great care to avoid any incidents with you, Jennifer."

"He did," she acknowledged. "He was really...nice. Kind of unexpected."

Knowing the man as she did, Teyla mentioned, "There are aspects to Ronon that I believe many would find unexpected."

"You're not kidding. Did I ever get a chance to show you the bracelet he made?"

"No, you have not."

"It's phenomenal. Really," Jennifer gushed enthusiastically. "I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful. I can't imagine why he'd want to give it to me, though. That's the kind of thing you give to someone you really care about."

"Would it surprise you to know that Ronon thinks of you fondly?" Teyla asked.

Knowing Ronon's interest in her friend, Teyla was curious to see what Jennifer had to say about him. She had the strong suspicion that the reason Jennifer couldn't find an answer to her question about Sgt. Capshaw or perhaps a question about Ronon was because the doctor had never allowed herself to look at either of them or anyone else in a romantic light.

"Ronon? We talk. Well, I talk while I stitch him up and he mostly just listens," Jennifer explained.

Teyla sighed. She admired Jennifer's dedication to her profession, but she was also of the opinion that keeping oneself and one's feelings separate from others for a period of years, away from one's home and family, was unrealistic. Feelings would crop up between those who interacted closely together. Relationships were bound to occur. Perhaps even marriages and children, if the love between the two people was strong enough. She and John were a prime example, although she had to admit, she had had feelings for John since the moment she laid eyes on him. She hadn't needed the years they'd worked together to know that she wanted him to be by her side always.

Teyla sent her friend a pointed stare.

Jennifer stammered. "We're friends, I guess, but I seriously doubt he gives me too much thought."

Teyla glanced over at Ronon where he was getting ready to rejoin the two women. Jennifer followed her gaze and met his eyes. To the doctor, he cracked a shy smile.

Jennifer turned rapidly to Teyla and in a rushed whisper, she got out. "You don't think...? Why would he...? Have you seen him? Why would he even look twice at me? He could have his pick of girls around here. I just...I don't see why _anyone_ would... I'm not exactly..."

"I think that you seriously undervalue yourself in the eyes of others, Jennifer," Teyla eased. "You need only to discover what it is that you want."

Jennifer looked worried, really worried. In a last desperate admission before the tray-laden warrior returned, she breathed. "I'm not good at this kind of thing, Teyla. I'm _really_ not good at it. This is...way over my head..."

Ronon set the two trays of food down on the table as the girls lapsed into a painful and obvious silence. He scanned them suspiciously.

"What?"

"Nothing," Jennifer squeaked.

Teyla stepped in. "We were talking about how unusual it is for you to accept beginners in your sparring classes."

"Oh," he grunted, his dreads swinging to the side as he sat down next to Jennifer. "Haven't had many people ask. I figure they all just decided it was safer to wait until you have your baby and get back to it."

Teyla watched him take a chunk out of his sandwich with vicious fervor.

"Very possible," Teyla nodded astutely, dipping her fork into her salad.

Rodney and John marched through the doorway of the mess hall, decidedly engrossed in conversation. For Teyla, it was a yet another pleasant surprise. John locked eyes with her and smirked. The glint in his eye displayed his clear enjoyment of the fast-paced interplay with the cranky physicist.

"Somebody was going to have to do it sometime and you've never exactly been opposed to human experimentation," John argued.

"It didn't have to be you and it most certainly, didn't have to be now," Rodney returned. "Anything could have happened. There are still several critical tests I needed to run on that thing first to make sure it was safe."

John gestured emphatically with his hand, suggesting that McKay had just made his point for him. "See? I just saved you a ton of work and now you know it's safe. Seriously, you're glad I did it."

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm kind of freaking out."

"Whatever," John shrugged. The pair came to a stop next to where Teyla, Ronon, and Jennifer sat. "As long as you hold up your end of the deal."

"What's going on?" Jennifer asked, her inquisitive nature coming to the fore.

"Sheppard touched AD-765. Just reached out and touched it with his bare hands," Rodney tattled. John just rolled his eyes.

"That's not exactly how it happened."

"How else would you describe it?" Rodney countered. Aping John's earlier actions, he said, "You stuck out your hand and...oh, yes...touched it!"

"You touched an experiment, Colonel?" Jennifer's soft concern bled through the chaos.

"I was trying to get him to take a break," John directed the dismissive comment at her and returned to Dr. McKay. "You've hardly left the lab since the whole lightning incident and frankly, you're starting to smell..."

"I am not!"

"Ronon?"

"I'm not saying a word," Ronon abdicated.

"How terribly out of character of you," came Rodney's biting response to his non-defense.

John continued. "Not to mention, I think Katie's starting to forget why she agreed to start seeing you again. You need to take a day off. Have a little fun. You made the bet. You lost. Get over it."

"I didn't think in a million years that you'd actually do it!" McKay pressed, still plainly reeling from the incident.

"Which is exactly why you lost," John finished. With the heat bleeding out of the argument and with it, the fun, John walked over to stand over Teyla. "Hi, sweetie," he greeted her properly and his hand descended on her stomach, giving it an adoring rub. "Hey, baby."

Teyla looked up at him, surprised at the ease at which he caressed her. Despite the length of time they had been together, John had never gotten truly comfortable showing his affection in more public places. In an environment where only their closest friends were around, he had been known to hold her hand and even risk the occasional, discreet kiss. But they were not only among their friends, at the moment. They were in the middle of the mess hall and it was lunchtime, which only made his next move all the more perplexing. Delicious, but perplexing. He leaned over and planted a firm, but loving kiss on her lips.

Teyla tried to enjoy it, but her eyes couldn't help but widen. And as he pulled away and she scanned the looks on her friend's faces, she could tell she was not the only taken aback.

"What was that?" Dr. McKay asked bluntly.

John's mouth twisted in irritation. "That was what us human beings call a 'kiss', Rodney. You really do need to take that day off. Why don't you get some lunch and go home? Get laid or something."

"John!" Teyla burst out.

"What?" he asked quizzically. To Rodney, he replied, "We live together and she's pregnant. We've got a few pretty smart people around here. I think one or two of them have figured out by now that we've probably kissed a few times. Of course, I could see why _you_ might get a little stumped."

"But, you don't..." McKay started, then grimaced. "I think I'm getting a migraine."

"It's a good thing you suddenly found yourself with a day off, then. Isn't it?" John smirked.

In spite of his professed headache, Rodney appeared as though he were going to send another verbal attack John's way, but he stopped before he could utter another syllable.

With John still standing at her side, she could feel his hand tighten under her hair, in the nape of her neck where he'd been stroking her. Teyla peered past Rodney to see Sgt. Capshaw had entered the mess hall, as well. She was about to invite him to join the rest of them, but the sudden rigidity of nearly everyone at the table made her pause. Even Jennifer. Jennifer's hand subconsciously covered her lips and her fingers played at them as her eyes darted away and honed in on the tray of barely eaten food.

Without a word, just a simple nod of impassive acceptance, Mason turned and walked out.

Teyla looked around at her friends and for the first time in a long time, didn't know what to think.

* * *

Never having been a great lover of attending meetings, Teyla had nevertheless accepted them. They were important to get everyone working on the same page and the quickest way to inform those going off-world what their objectives were and warn them of what they may encounter along the way. They were also the part of off-world missions that she missed the least. When she had still been on John's team, she had enjoyed passing some of the time covertly admiring John and taken pleasure in the times when he would cast a look over his shoulder at her and smile. Even though she and John had begun seeing each other, after transferring to Maj. Lorne's team, she found herself still wishing for those small moments.

It seemed that with her new position in the city, meetings had again become an integral part of her day. Only now, the topics discussed held even less ability to grab her attention. She had become a part of the administration side to Atlantis' mission which also tended toward the more mundane and tedious. As she again took her place at the conference table and Mr. Woolsey began one of his longer winded exchanges to the various department heads, the one boon she saw was the profile of her lover in the chair next to her.

In the past, Teyla hadn't realized just how many of these sorts of meetings John had been required to attend in his position as military leader that she and the rest of the team had been exempt from, with the notable exception of Dr. McKay. But today, she found herself grateful for his added responsibilities. It gave her the chance once again to sneak those glances at him and pretend for a short spell that they were the John and Teyla of over a year ago, still caught in an intricate dance where they never they quite touched and those stolen looks were something loaded with angst and immense promise.

Teyla silently chided herself. She had no need to pretend while the evidence of their love and passion for one another began to gently prod her stomach and she knew would be going home to him at the end of the day. She was a grown woman and shouldn't get caught up in teenage fantasy while she was supposed to be concentrating on her duties. After all, John didn't seem to be paying her any particular attention. If he could maintain his sense of decorum and professional distance, she certainly could. Teyla nearly inaudibly cleared her throat and refocused.

About ten minutes later, Mr. Woolsey and Dr. Tratovsky were embroiled in a heated debate over the geologist's departmental need for new equipment versus the ever pressing question of keeping to a budget that everyone, and the IOA, could live with. Teyla had listened carefully to the points made by both men and was considering an attempt at mediating the exchange when she found herself distracted. Underneath the large conference table, a hand had descended on her thigh.

John's attention appeared to be rapt on the discussion in front of them, but the way his large hand fondled the curve of her knee and up her leg gave testimony that his mind was otherwise engaged. Teyla had to work to stifle her body's delightful reaction as well as her surprise. While he kept his actions out of plain sight, he had not moved close enough to hide the angle of his arm and the table was only providing so much cover. If the other department heads were any more bored by what was going on around them than they were, John's actions would not go unnoticed.

Teyla's hand rested on top of his, but the soft hint to cease only seemed to spur him on. His hand stroked the thin fabric of her dress and gradually moved higher and higher up her leg. Teyla turned her head to the side facing him in attempt to hide her closing eyes and visceral reaction from the many faces surrounding her. Sparing her an indulgent glance, the sparkle in John's eyes told her that he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

His hand approached her center. Her hand that had been previously only suggesting that he stop, clamped down and denied him the ability to move any further.

"John..." she whispered.

He turned to her again and sent her a self-assured grin. Confused and breathless, Teyla shook her head at him. He slid his hand slowly away and folded his arms over his chest, looking very satisfied. Meanwhile, Teyla was bewildered. He had been quite affectionate today which wasn't unusual for him. In the privacy of their quarters. Their impromptu love-making this morning was hurried, but the passion and vigor he'd shown was typical for him, especially since their reunion. But, she had never expected his very public displays of affection. Those were quite out of character and she didn't know what to make of it. Was he trying to compensate in some way for her long absence? Although not quite as stringent about it, like him, she had never felt truly comfortable sharing that aspect of their relationship with others.

She looked at John's beautiful profile again. She didn't want him doing things he may feel ill at ease with in some misguided attempt to please her. Teyla wished that she had the insight of the connection with him at that moment and bemoaned her lack of ability to create it.

* * *

"Oh, come on! Get serious! Throw the freakin' flag, already!" John shouted at the television.

Sitting next to him on the couch, Teyla adjusted allow John more room to gesticulate his frustration at the taped football game. John had rationed his football viewing to last him until the Daedalus arrived with a new season of games to watch. Typically, he and Teyla watched them with Rodney, Ronon, Lorne, and Mason. Tonight, it was just them. Katie had wanted to take advantage of Rodney's emergence from his lab, Lorne was currently off-world, Mason... Things had obviously not been resolved since the incident with Jennifer, if their behavior in the mess hall was any indication. And Ronon. He hadn't wanted to be what John called a third wheel, so he had made a polite, but transparent excuse. Teyla sighed, introspectively recounting the events of the day.

John's arm, which was slung around her shoulders, gave her an easy nudge. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Teyla blinked and looked at him. "Pardon?"

"Just wondering what's going on in there," he commented as he pressed pause on the remote. "You haven't yelled at the ref once and trust me, there's been enough bad calls in this game to cause a minor stroke."

"I was considering something you said this morning," she replied, offering him a dim smile. To his questioning expression, she added, "What you said regarding the baby taking after you."

"Oh, that? I was just joking around."

"I am starting to wonder if you might not have been more correct than you may have thought," she stated, sending her nails to work over her itchy baby bump.

"You think the ATA gene is what's throwing you off your game?" he guessed after a moment of pondering her thought process.

She bobbed her head. "Perhaps. I know I can reach our child, John. Every time we see into one another I feel this...presence growing stronger in my mind. I just do not know how. It seems I am only able to begin to make progress when I am with you. I was hoping that you could help me."

"Me?" he inquired doubtfully. "If you need a human light switch or a ride to the nearest Gate, I'm your man, but I'm not the one wearing the psychic pants in the family. You've got that job pretty well covered."

"And yet, I am failing," she said sadly. A quick learner all her life, her apparent inadequacy was getting to her. She wondered if it was somehow a reflection of her as a mother, that she couldn't even tap into her bond with her child.

"Hey..." John said with love in his tone. His hand cupped around her cheek. "You aren't failing. You just need to..."

He paused, as though engaging in his familiar search for the right words. Teyla looked into his eyes. John's difficulty expressing his emotions rarely bothered her anymore. His struggles were met with doting patience until he could say what he wanted. It wasn't always the most poetic language or the most eloquent, but he always spoke from his heart. That was what mattered to her.

A strange look passed over his masculine features, like something she had seen on him before. It only lasted an instant, but Teyla remembered seeing that same manner after a head injury that had left his memory in a shambles for a short time. He looked lost.

"John?"

He startled out of whatever had taken hold of him and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, babe. I, uh, guess I just lost my train of thought for a minute, there." His eyes darted back and forth in effort to bring him back to what they had been discussing. "Okay, um...yeah. Maybe...we need to just approach this from a different angle," he began. "You have the Wraith gene. Your powers run along the same lines as the Wraith. You do things the same way. Now, I may not be a telepath, but I've had a Wraith queen or two digging around in my head and the Wraith are kind of a...pushy bunch when it comes to this stuff."

Teyla's eyes narrowed at that.

"Don't look at me like that," he said with a smirk. "You asked for my help. This is what you get."

"I get referred to as 'pushy'?"

"Well, if the shoe fits," he quipped.

Teyla gave him a playful, but forceful smack to the ribs.

Chuckling, John continued, "My point is, if we assume you're right and the problem is the ATA gene, it may just be a...style difference is all."

"I must learn to do things as you would?"

"_If_ I could...which I can't," he reminded her.

She shook her head. "I do not know if that is possible."

John exhaled and thought out loud. "Well, what were you doing when the kiddo practically knocked us on our asses the first time?"

"I do not know," Teyla exclaimed, trying to remember the slightest detail as she had already done in her many subsequent attempts. "I was not trying, then."

"Maybe, that's it. Maybe, you shouldn't try so hard," he suggested. "Look. When it comes to this sort of thing, I'm not...I don't know what it's like to be someone like you. You're special, Teyla. I'm not really sure what it is you have to do to connect, but when I...," he stopped. "Here."

The lights overhead grew brighter at his beckoning.

"Instead of pushing for it...," he said, his fingers playing across her skin, "...try just...putting it out there and see if what you want will come to you."

The brightness in the room dimmed to a mellow, soothing level, creating a more romantic ambiance.

John grinned. "See? Just what I wanted."

"You have been quite persistent today, John. It is most unlike you," Teyla observed, warming to his caress and allowing the sensation to carry her away.

"Well, stop being the hottest woman I've ever laid eyes on and I'll stop being so persistent."

John's lips nuzzled the delicate flesh of her neck. His tongue lightly grazed a path to the pulse point below her ear and kissed her deeply. Teyla let out a soft moan.

A polite knock at the door broke the spell they were in the process of weaving.

John groaned. "Ugh! I'll get it."

Teyla put a hand on his knee to keep him from getting up and got to her feet. "I believe you should stay here and...gather yourself before greeting any visitors, John."

He quickly glanced down where part of him was already halfway standing. "You're probably right," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

Teyla returned the smile and walked over to the door. She waved her hand over the Ancient lock system, releasing the door, and it slid open readily.

Mason stood there fidgeting. "Hey, Teyla," he greeted her nervously, casting a searching look over her shoulder.

"Sergeant, it's nice to see you."

"Um,...thanks," he said awkwardly.

It was plain to see that John and the others were not the only ones still effected by what happened. She asked, "Would you like to speak with John?"

"No, I, uh...I actually came to talk to you."

"Oh?"

"It's...kind of private," he added in a low voice. With his thumb pointing in the direction of the hallway, he took a deep breath presumably to steady himself and asked, "Do you mind just talking out here really quick? I promise I'll make it short."

"Certainly," Teyla agreed, offering him an appeasing smile. She had rarely seen the man so uncomfortable.

"I'm sure you heard I'm doing sessions with Wilcox," he started.

Teyla nodded. In addition to John's conditions of continued pain management, he had also insisted that Sgt. Capshaw begin seeing the base psychologist. "Yes, I have."

"Okay, well...he suggested that I try...meditation to, you know...channel things. Keep things from getting to be too much."

"Indeed. Meditation can be quite effective in controlling pain as well as tempering emotions," Teyla informed him, as he had most likely been told by Dr. Wilcox.

Mason cast another nervous glance toward the door. It was disconcerting to see the usually assertive man so unsettled. "Well, I was kind of hoping that you could...teach me. I know you probably don't want anything to do with me, but...the pain killers have never been all that reliable for me and I need something else to help. I'm willing to try anything. Teyla, I...I can't lose it again. I could've..."

"I would be happy to help if I can, Mason," she assured him. "We could meet tomorrow morning, perhaps?"

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely not," John's voice rumbled dangerously from the door.

Mason instantly stood up ramrod straight. "Sir..."

John closed the short distance between her and Capshaw in an instant. His anger radiated off him in waves. "There's no way I'm letting you within ten yards of her."

"John, please," Teyla tried. She had the feeling that asking for her help had been extremely difficult for Mason and John's insistent need to protect her was going to do far more harm than good. "John, this is not the time for you to..."

"Not happening!" John yelled. The incensed colonel put a harsh, pointed finger to Mason's chest and pressed hard. Teyla didn't miss the distinctive wince that escaped the big marine. For a dreadful instant, she was afraid that Mason would react badly to John's threatening posture and things would escalate.

"John! Stop it!"

"You stay away from my wife!"

"I'm gonna go," Mason said, his jaw cinched tighter than a drum. "Thanks anyway, Teyla."

As Capshaw back away, Teyla put herself between the two, taking John in hand while Mason left. Teyla dragged John inside, starting to fume herself.

"I don't want you anywhere near him, do you understand?"

"I have had enough of this, John!" Teyla laid into him. "You cannot give me orders and you cannot tell me who I am permitted to be around, do _you_ understand?"

"Teyla..." he hissed. He was beginning to pace around the room like a caged animal.

"Sgt. Capshaw is your friend! He came to me for help and you attacked him!" she shouted. At a complete loss to explain what just happened, her hands clutched at her forehead to circumvent her own rapidly spiraling temper. "What has come over you, John?"

With startling speed, the warm presence of her child's seemingly impregnable consciousness rushed to the fore of Teyla's mind, pressing in on her. As John fumed in front of her, bathing in his perception that Capshaw was a threat to her, Teyla waited for the dizzying effect of contacting this new mind to take over, but it never did. Instead of practically bringing her to her knees, it funneled through her like the blood coursing through her veins. She felt empowered, not overwhelmed. All of it came in an instant. She could see the truth of John's earlier suggestion. She had not been trying to connect. She had merely posed the question and the answer came to her.

Teyla looked into John's eyes expecting to see what she had before, but what she found was a shadow bearing down on him. The man she knew was fading into the darkness, becoming almost transparent.

"John, there is something wrong with you," she insisted.

His head jerked toward her and the blackness over him followed suit in perfect sync, shading him from her. "What are you talking about?"

"Can you not feel it?" her anxiousness permeated the question.

"Feel what?" he asked impatiently.

Teyla took him by the hand and led him back to the doorway and into the hall. Whatever this shadow was, it was an imminent threat. She could sense that with every fiber of her being. "We must go to the infirmary. Now. Jennifer can do a scan..."

John pulled away from her. "Teyla, there's nothing wrong with me!"

She turned to man she loved. Teyla tried one last time to convince him to come. If he did not agree, then she would resort to other means of getting him to the infirmary. She would protect John with her last breath, even if it was from himself.

"John, do you trust me?" she asked him.

"You know I do."

"Then, please, trust me now. You must come with me," she implored him.

After a tense moment in silent deliberation, he reached out his hand and allowed her to lead him.

* * *

Teyla watched from the window outside as John was being wheeled into post-op. Still under anesthetic from the surgery, he was completely unresponsive. She didn't think she would ever get used to seeing him that way; unconscious and unaware how vulnerable he looked. Teyla thought her aversion had first begun in a puddlejumper five years ago, when they'd had to stop his heart to remove an Iratus bug from his throat. It was the first time John Sheppard had died. Of course, Dr. Beckett had managed to bring him back that day. John had always come back from the brink, but every time Teyla saw him like this, it was a cruel reminder that one day his luck may run out and he may not come back.

From behind her, Dr. Keller beckoned her to walk with her. The two friends moved into the main section of the infirmary where Ronon and Rodney waited impatiently.

"Carson and the nurses are just getting him squared away. You'll be able to see Col. Sheppard soon," she let the group know.

"Did you get it?" Rodney asked.

Jennifer reassured him and Teyla. "It was a relatively small incision and we were able to remove the parasite fairly easily. He came through it just fine and the xenobiology department has a brand new specimen to study." Teyla took a seat with her friends as Dr. Keller went on. "You know, he's really lucky you brought him in. His last scan was just two days ago and it was too small to be detected. At that kind of growth rate, too much longer and...I honestly don't think we would have been able to remove it."

"How _did_ you know to bring him in?" Ronon spoke up. He hadn't spoken much throughout John's surgery. Teyla suspected he felt guilty for not having picked up on something being wrong earlier.

"Well, where the parasite had already spread, Col. Sheppard would've been exhibiting symptoms," Jennifer suggested. "Mood swings, poor impulse control, possibly memory loss...Teyla spends more time with him than anyone. I'm sure she picked up on it."

Teyla shuddered. She had noticed his odd behavior, but had dismissed it. Until his altercation with Sgt. Capshaw, to her it seemed he was only having an off day. Had she not tapped into the baby's abilities when she did, John could possibly have died. She gave her stomach a grateful rub.

"_That_ explains why he touched 765!" he exclaimed. "I _knew_ he'd never do that! You realize this means that, technically, I didn't lose the bet?"

"Shut up, McKay," Ronon grumbled.

* * *

Teyla spent what little remained of the night and the next morning at John's side while he slept. Rodney and Ronon had brought her back breakfast from the mess hall and she even managed to get some sleep herself. Not that that part had been difficult. She was exhausted. Though she had overcome the staggering feeling that came with joining with her child, when it withdrew, she had been completely drained. It had been a good thing she was already sitting down, because she didn't think her legs would have been up to the task of holding her after that.

It was nearing lunchtime. Rodney and Ronon again heeded the call of their formidable appetites and left, promising again to bring her something back. They weren't going to have John wake up and getting upset that they hadn't been taking doing their part to take care of her. Although Teyla didn't need taking care of, she let them. She knew it made them feel better to be contributing in some small way. She also enjoyed the opportunity to spend some time in relative solitude with John, aside from the periodic checks from the medical staff.

From the padded chair she was in, Teyla interlocked her fingers in his and closed her eyes. She could feel her child so close, having gained some sort of comprehension and stability now, she believed she could reach out and touch it.

"How's he doing?"

Teyla peered at Mason's furrowed brow standing on the other side of John's bed. "Sergeant. It is so good of you to come."

His troubled eyes darted away from hers. "Well, I sorta live here these days. I'm surprised I don't have my name carved into one of the beds, yet," he commented. Teyla glanced down at the fresh bandage over his hand and a smaller one in the crook of his arm. She nodded in understanding. "I heard he was still asleep, so I thought it'd be okay."

"Mason, I want to apologize for what occurred last night. John did not..."

He stopped her. "It's fine, Teyla. Really. I get it."

"No, it is not," she countered. "John will wish to make his own apologies when he is feeling better, I am sure."

"Maybe," he said, looking around for an exit. "Look, I'm gonna...I'll see around, okay?"

"I would like to renew my offer to help, if you still wish it," she offered before he could turn away.

"Forget about it," he stated unequivocally, then his expression softened into one of sincerity. "I appreciate you wanting to. It means a lot."

"You are most welcome, Sergeant. Anytime."

He cracked a smile and before he left, he reminded her, "How many times have I asked you to call me Mason?"

"I will do better in the future," she returned his smile. "I promise."

John slept for another two hours before he began to stir. He slowly opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was Teyla, his beautiful Teyla, resting in the chair next to him. John raised his hand to touch the bandage surrounding his head. _Okay_. It wasn't as huge as it felt like.

Detecting the motion next to her, Teyla's eyes popped open, remarkably aware for someone he'd thought was just asleep. "John?"

"Hey," his managed through his dry throat.

Teyla picked up a cup at her side and stretched the straw out for him to take a sip. John could feel the cool water running down his esophagus and into the rest of his body. It felt like heaven.

With a slight cough, he attempted to talk again. "What...what time...is it?"

"I am not entirely certain. It is afternoon."

John let a short huff. "I wish I could sleep this long...without the bug in my brain."

Teyla smiled. "That would be a much nicer way to spend the day. How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess," came his short, but understated reply. In reality, his head felt like a baby elephant had sat on it.

"Is there anything you require?"

John realized belatedly that the silky skin of her hand was holding his. He gave a tired squeeze.

"Just you," he answered.

"That, you have," she responded, beaming.

He could feel the tempting press of sleep calling to him, but he didn't want to just yet. "You did it, Teyla. I knew you could." In answer to her puzzled look, he added, "The baby."

She grinned. "Yes."

A teardrop escaped his tired eye and ran down his temple. "I don't care what you think. The baby takes after you. Not even born yet and they're saving Daddy's life."

Teyla wiped the drop away tenderly. "You should rest, John."

"Wait," he said, pulling her hand from his side to rest on his chest. "Do you think...you could do it again?"

She looked at him in surprise. "You want me to...?"

"I know it sounds stupid considering I was standing right there, but...I missed it," he said sadly. Keller and Beckett had warned them both that his emotions might be a little off kilter at first, but as another tear slid down his face, he knew this regret permeating him was real. He had a few regrets about what had happened over the last few days, but this one stood out from the rest. "The first time you make a real breakthrough and I missed it."

Teyla stroked his whiskered chin. "There will time for that, John."

"Please, Teyla."

Concerned, she told him, "I do not know if I should. I do not know exactly what effect it will have on you or if you are strong enough, yet."

With a smile, he tried to allay her fears. "We're already in the infirmary with the best doctors anywhere on standby. What's the worst that could happen?"

She grinned at his attempt, but plainly wasn't convinced. But, he also knew that she wanted to share this with him. "Are you certain you want to do this now?"

John gently nodded. He would have put more emphasis on the gesture, but he was afraid any more would spark the headache that he could feel lurking in the background.

"Very well," she acquiesced.

Their entwined hands resting on his chest tightened around one another. Teyla closed her eyes and took very carefully measured, even breaths. It only took a few moments, but the invigorating sensation that he'd come to know starting spreading through him. It was far more defined and real to him that it had ever been before. He opened his eyes and looked at Teyla, feeling the same emotions reflecting off her. John wondered if this was anything like what she had felt in her connections with her father and the others, or if this was something as unique to her as it was to him.

Teyla smiled at his errant thought and he felt her intangible reply, reassuring him that this was something truly special. She asked if he was alright and he sent her a picture of sheer elation. She took a deep breath and John felt another wave drifting over him. This time it was more powerful as she dug deeper.

John could still feel Teyla's more intricate thought patterns dancing around in the forefront of his mind, but he began to feel someone else in the background. They weren't thoughts, per se. They were more impressions. Curiosity. Contentment. Love. A wide smiled erupted on his tired face, when he sensed sleepiness that wasn't his. He felt Teyla's own weariness seeping in and he encouraged her to break the link. He couldn't have asked for anything more fulfilling that what he'd already seen. But, just before she let go, he saw something else.

His eyes widened a little and he looked to Teyla, wondering if she'd seen it, too. With an elated nod, she indicated that she had. A small laugh emerged from her.

"Come here," he invited her.

Teyla carefully insinuated herself onto the bed and gently curled up next to him. John, still riding the intoxicating feeling of bliss that had effectively dealt with his headache, took his hand and rubbed her stomach as he started to chuckle out loud.

"I thought I heard you two talking," Jennifer came around the corner. The doctor paused, taking in the scene before her. "What's going on?"

Without taking her eyes off of John, Teyla said softly, "The baby..."

John, equally as captivated in her, finished with a smile, "...it's a girl."


	14. Making Amends

*Reposted this chapter—I was reading through it for the millionth time and came upon an error that was just too dumb to leave, so I fixed it. Content is otherwise the same.*

**Chapter 14 – Making Amends**

xo

"Hey, you made it."

"Yeah. How's he holding up?"

John's body jerked slightly, spooked by the sudden sounds coming from behind him, penetrating his deep sleep.

"Oh, he's a regular Superman," came McKay's biting, but oddly comforting brand of sarcasm. "He's gone and holed up with Lois Lane in their own private little Fortress of Solitude."

"Whatever that means," Ronon tacked on.

Without opening his eyes, John knew where he was. The smell, the beeps and hums of monitors all around, the annoying pinch of an IV still taped into place on his arm—it all added up to the infirmary, where he'd been since his surgery a week ago. Teyla's body was nestled against his in the tiny hospital bed, her head pleasantly situated on the pillow in front of him. He could even smell the perfume of her shampoo.

"Well, what do you mean, 'How's he holding up'? How would you be?" Rodney continued, his wry tone giving way to ear-piercing apprehension.

John began to stir. What were they going on about? He was fine. In fact, if his groggy mind wasn't playing tricks on him, he was hoping to get discharged today.

"What did Jennifer say about...?" Ronon asked. The warrior was plainly upset.

"It's too soon to tell," McKay answered dejectedly.

John forced his eyelids open. Had something happened? Trying not to wake Teyla, he carefully turned his head to peer over his shoulder and find out what was going on, but he saw no one. Not Ronon, not Rodney. Not even a nurse with a hell of a deep voice and a killer McKay impression. John blinked a few times in the low light surrounding him, trying to get his bleary eyes to focus, but it didn't bring him any more success. There was no one there.

John inhaled deeply and rubbed his eyes. He couldn't wait to be able to go home. Another day or two in here and he'd be dreaming about clowns dancing around in tutus or even worse, McKay in a tutu. He shuddered.

John sidled back up to Teyla and tried to set the dream aside and go back to sleep, but it wasn't long before nature was knocking at his door, throwing the thought of slumber into the background again. He gingerly pulled away from Teyla, but his struggle to untangle his IV pole from the legs of the roll-away tray table managed to catch her attention.

"John...?" she murmured, clearly only half awake. "Where are you going?"

"Just a quick pit stop. Go back to sleep, sweetie."

He heard a muffled reply and Teyla stilled again. Satisfied, John made the short walk across the darkened infirmary to the bathroom, annoyed at having to drag the metal pole along behind him, but grateful he'd been allowed to wear a set of maroon scrubs instead of one of those privacy-be-damned hospital gowns. Nothing about those things had ever made sense to him. Wasn't recovery hard enough without adding insult to injury by making the patient hold the backs of those things closed to avoid giving the nurses an eyeful?

After having given his bladder a much needed emptying, John cleaned up at the sink and splashed a little water on his face. The fuzz making a comeback on his chin reminded him that he needed to shave. The corner of his mouth perked up. If he got his discharge, maybe he'd ask Teyla for a repeat performance of the last time. Only this time, instead of in the infirmary, he could look up at her gorgeous face and watch her tender handling of a razor at home. Getting shaving cream all over the place was sounding like more and more fun all the time.

John tweaked the angle of his head in the mirror to try and get a peak at the incision site at the the back of his right ear. It sat just below the hairline so it wasn't painfully obvious, but he could still see the trail of stitches running across the small area. John sighed a little in relief. He hated to cop to his vanity, but he'd honestly been relieved to hear that they hadn't shaved a huge chunk of his hair off. It was unruly, determined to defy military regs, and refused any pleas of cooperation from his comb, but it was his and he kinda liked it the way it was.

He reached for a paper towel and dried the remaining droplets of water from his face and hands and, with his metal companion in tow, walked out.

The infirmary was still mostly dark. John had no idea what time it was, but it was very early in the morning. Typically, a quiet time for the infirmary staff and usually no more than a skeleton crew on duty, his curiosity was piqued when he saw a bright light shining over the bed in the back corner of the infirmary. He could hear people talking, but they were apparently attempting to keep their voices low, because he couldn't make out what they were saying. It occurred to him that they were doing so probably to keep from disturbing him and Teyla, the sole overnight guests at the moment.

As John made his way through the large room toward them, he heard a moan and Carson's brogue, "Prep a saline drip, would ya, Hannah?"

"No, I just need to get out of here. I'm fine," came a strangled voice.

"And next your gonnae tell me that you're always this lovely shade of gray, as well. The fluids, Hannah," Dr. Beckett reiterated.

"Yes, doctor."

John came to the edge of the privacy curtain as the red-headed nurse rounded the corner. The two nearly bumped into each other. Hannah looked at him like she wanted to shoo him back to bed, but she bit her lip, thinking better of it, and left. Looking after her, he wondered what _that_ was all about. He scooted a little closer to the curtain and peered around.

Carson was standing over a pale Capshaw, who's brow and shirt were soaked with sweat, shining a penlight in his eyes in spite of his ragged protests.

"I told you..."

"I know, I know. You're fine," Beckett said with patience. He put the light back in his lab coat pocket and reached for a basin at the side of the bed. "When are ya lads gonnae figure out that saying it doesn't actually make it true?"

Mason hurriedly rolled to his side on the bed. Carson held up the basin as spasms began to rack his body. But as John saw, the basin had been reduced to a mere formality as the marine was coming up dry.

Beckett gave Mason's shoulder a pat. "I'm sorry, son. It'll be over soon."

Hannah bustled past John, brushing his arm accidentally as she went. Carrying everything she needed, she started setting up an IV for Mason as his body seemed to begin to relax again. John didn't miss the surreptitious glance the nurse gave to Carson indicating in his direction. Dr. Beckett looked at him and met his gaze. His jaw tensed.

To Capshaw, he said, "I'm gonnae leave ya in Hannah's very capable hands for a moment, alright? I have something I need ta see ta."

Mason managed an uncaring nod.

Carson strode toward him and pulled him back in the direction of his own bed. "And what do you think you're doing out of bed?"

"Man's allowed to go the bathroom, doc," John defended himself.

"Well, you're bloody well moving in the wrong direction, Colonel," Carson scolded him in little more than a whisper.

"I was just coming back when I..."

"...stuck your nose where it doesn't belong," Beckett finished.

"Geez, you're cranky this morning," John commented.

Carson swallowed the next thing coming out of his mouth, realizing that he was right. He heaved a sigh and let go of John's arm. "My apologies, Colonel. Ya really shouldn't be out of bed at this hour."

"Hey, when nature calls, you answer. Brain surgery or not," John rebutted. Then, his mouth twisted downward. "You gonna tell me what that was about? Cause, right now, I'm thinking it's not the flu."

Carson's lips pursed and he glanced back to where his patient was lying. "I suppose ya could think of it as though morphine and oxycodone got together and had themselves an ill-tempered, illegitimate child. That, I'm afraid to say, is a side effect." He continued on the wake of John's troubled expression. "The first hour is usually the worst. We keep him monitored and make sure he's stable until the nausea subsides and he normalizes. Don't worry, Colonel. Before long, he'll be out and about again."

"How long's this been going on?" John asked, his guilt prodding at him. He was hoping that maybe this was a new thing. That he hadn't been doing this for the last two weeks, ever since he'd pulled him off that bathroom floor, on his own.

All Carson did was give him a look and John's meager, but ultimately false hopes were dashed. He closed his eyes and swore under his breath.

He already regretted what happened with Capshaw. He had the distinct impression that if Teyla hadn't thrown herself in between the two of them, he might have even crossed the line and gone so far as to punch the man. Sure, he'd had a parasite in his head stripping him of his control over his impulses and emotional reactions, but John still felt responsible for his failure to keep a lid on his temper.

John shook his head, feeling like a complete jackass. After the incident with Dr. Keller, the tension between the two men had been so thick you could cut it with a chainsaw. He should've known that Capshaw wouldn't have come to his door looking for meditation lessons or anything else for that matter, without a damn good reason and now he had a better idea what had driven him there. Like Teyla had said, he was looking for help. To cope.

"I, um...I need to..." John tried to get out. "I owe him an apology, Carson."

"Uh, Colonel...I don't think that's such a good idea," Beckett stopped him. "Sgt. Capshaw doesn't want anyone seeing him in that state. That's why we're going through this rubbish so confounded early. We've been doing it all week. He wanted ta get in and get out of here before you and Teyla woke up. It's probably best ta leave him be for now."

"Yeah, you're probably right..." John agreed quietly. He wouldn't want anyone around for that, either. He threw a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm just gonna..."

"...try and get some rest?" Carson completed, driving home to John his suggestion.

"Yeah," John nodded deep in thought.

"Do ya need anything, Colonel? Your head feelin' alright?"

"Fine, Carson. Thanks."

* * *

Later in the morning, John lay on the bed impatiently bringing his fist down on the mattress, awaiting word on whether he could go. He'd already gotten dressed in his civvies, in part so when he got the go-ahead he wouldn't have to waste any more time before leaving, and in part, just in case. If Keller came back saying he'd have to stick around another week, he was ready to bolt.

Teyla's briefing this morning had run a little long, but she had just radioed to tell him that she was on her way. She was just as eager for him to be home as he was. He imagined that being as pregnant as she was that spending her nights in a bed only meant for one wasn't all that comfortable, but she had insisted. And he didn't put up much of a fight. He wanted her there. He wanted his daughter there.

His repetitive pounding ceased as he smiled to himself. He was still getting used to that. _My daughter. _He was going to have a little girl.

"Okay, Colonel," Jennifer said, casually strolling over to his bed.

John sat up straight in the bed.

"We got the last of your test results back and I've looked over your new scans."

Felt like he'd been left hanging, he asked in wary anticipation, "And...?"

"You can go home," she declared.

"Thank God," John exclaimed. "Not that the service here hasn't been great as usual..."

"...but, there's no place like home. I get it," Jennifer let him off the hook with a smile. "You'll still need to take it easy and I want to see you back in here in a few days for a follow-up..." she trailed off.

"What is it?"

She said, "Actually, Colonel, your scans are pretty impressive considering."

"Thanks, Doc. I always try to give you my best side," John quipped, finding her comment a little odd.

"Colonel, we had to cut into your skull and remove a parasite from your brain," she reminded him of the seriousness of what had happened. "Given the circumstances and your history, Dr. Beckett and I have been watching out for edema, seizures, memory loss,...migraines, at the least. You _have_ been sleeping a lot which is to be expected, but the only complaint we've gotten out of you is for a few minor headaches."

"Sorry?" John offered, confused as to whether she was happy at his speedy recovery or concerned.

Dr. Keller sighed and gave him a bolstering smile. She was glad he was bouncing back so quickly, but obviously at a loss to explain it. "According to your scan the bone regrowth is also well ahead of schedule. You're healing at an amazing rate, Colonel."

"Well, I've had enough practice. Maybe, I'm finally getting good at it," came John's lame attempt to appease her. In actuality, John had realized days ago that he was flying ahead of the curve. He'd already had enough surgeries to last him a few lifetimes. Despite the severity of this situation, his time recuperating was turning out to be one of the easier ones yet and he had a fair suspicion as to why.

"You sure you don't want to tell me how you knew the baby was a girl?" she probed. "I understand with her abilities how Teyla might've known, but you...?"

John chuckled. Keller was a smart girl. "Intuition?" he posed.

Her eyes narrowed, knowing he was keeping something from her. "I'm not buying that one for a second, Colonel."

Teyla arrived in the infirmary looking anxious to hear the verdict and John stood up to greet her. He clasped her hand, thankful for her impeccable timing. Keller was going to have to wait for her explanation.

"Well?" Teyla queried.

"I'm free to go," he said. "Thanks again, Doc."

"My pleasure, Colonel," Jennifer answered, resigned that he was going to make his escape after all. "And Teyla...?"

"Yes?"

"Make sure he doesn't overdo it."

Teyla beamed. "I will. Thank you, Jennifer."

John led Teyla out the door to freedom.

"Thanks for the rescue," John told her.

"Rescue?" she asked puzzled.

"She was asking about the whole baby thing, again."

Teyla sighed in exasperation. "Oh, John...Why do you not simply tell her? She only wishes to understand."

"Because the second I do, her and Beckett are gonna have a million questions and they'll want to run more tests and I've had more than enough of that for the time being," he stated as they made their way toward the nearest transporter. "Not to mention, I like having the two of you to myself."

"Telling Dr. Keller or Dr. Beckett will not change that."

"Maybe not," he granted her, but it wouldn't feel the same. He knew that much. John tightened his grip on her hand and they stepped into the transporter. "You want to take a walk?"

"If you'd like," she smiled.

"Good. I've got to get some of the kinks out of my legs," he replied.

On the display board at the back of the transporter, he pressed the indicator for the East Pier. It was one his favorite parts of the city and relatively close to their quarters, but not too close. In a second, they were on the other side of Atlantis. John breathed in the salty sea air and felt the light breeze traveling across his face. A lock of Teyla's hair had been caught in the wind. John smiled. He affectionately reached out his hand and tucked the flyaway hair behind her ear for her. Continuing the fluid motion, his fingers traced the line of her jaw all the way down to the point of her chin before he reluctantly pulled his hand away.

He was adrift in the dark pools of her eyes as she said softly, "Thank you, John."

"You're welcome," he whispered.

They started walking along the pier. John thoughts floated back to the things he had done while his judgment had been impaired and what he had seen early that morning. He grimaced. There were things he needed to address and make right, and not only with Capshaw.

"I, uh, need to talk to you, Teyla. About what happened when I was..." he started. "I said some things...did things..."

"...that you might call out of character?" she completed for him.

The weight John carried lightened somewhat, bolstered by her recollection of a conversation they'd had a long time ago. This situation wasn't so different from that one. She hadn't held it against him when he'd pinned her against the wall of the gym and roughly kissed her, and he didn't think she held his actions against him this time, either.

"You mean, when you took an unnecessary risk by touching Rodney's experiment?" she added. "Or were you perhaps referring to something else?"

John smirked. "I admit, feeling you up in the middle of a meeting _probably_ wasn't the best idea I've ever had, but..." he admired how the afternoon sun shone off her caramel skin, "...if you keep looking like that, I can't promise I'll never do it again."

"Like what?" she wondered. She glanced down at her clothes as though she were making sure nothing had accidentally slipped out of place.

John slid his arm around her shoulders as they walked. "Beautiful," his sincere, deep voice dropped the game. "I was out of line, Teyla. Way out of line. With you and with Capshaw."

"Yes, you were, but you were also not yourself, John."

"Even so, I am sorry," he said.

John and Teyla continued their leisurely stroll over the pier. As the waves crashed against the city's platform, his eyes roamed over her freely. He noticed for the first time that she was moving differently to accommodate her ever-growing baby bump. Still as sexy as ever, her confident strut had morphed into a more relaxed sway. An upturned corner of his mouth betrayed his satisfaction. He couldn't wait for the waddle to appear. He couldn't wait to meet his daughter face to face. He couldn't wait for the first time they could walk the city as a family.

Before he'd come here—before her—the notion of a having a real family of his own was always in the distant future. Someday. At some point. When he was ready to settle down. When he met the right person. For years, he'd let things stand in the way, even after he'd met the love of his life. There was always later.

After Col. Sumner's death, his position in the expedition had changed and he'd needed to focus on that and not on the captivating Athosian woman he'd just had a moment with. There would be time for that later. Then, she became part of his team and he'd conceded his feelings to the demands of protocol. And they worked seamlessly together, making it all the more important that he put any thoughts of taking their relationship to another level on the back burner. That, he did a little too well. He grew comfortable with the status quo and convinced himself he was content just being her friend.

Then, everything changed. He nearly lost her and soon after, his father died. Both events in concert sent him a stark message that life will not wait forever. Opportunities were finite and if passed, may never come around again. He needed her and as more than a friend. She was his life. She was his future and the night of his father's wake, he took a chance and kissed her for real.

Walking with Teyla, his long put off future was right here, right in front of him. He had a home full of never-ending wonders. Life in Pegasus could be hard and at times, cruel, but in the end, it was always worth it. He had a woman he loved and a little girl on the way. Friends he could trust with his life and more importantly, with theirs. Only one thing was missing.

John came to a stop. He gazed at her and spoke up, "Teyla, there's something else."

"Yes?"

"While I was...acting a little nuts...," he began with a nervous shrug, "Well...you may have heard me, um,..."

"What is it you want to say, John?" she asked serenely.

Her patience lent him courage. "I...called you my wife."

Teyla smiled. "Yes, you did."

John exhaled. She _had_ heard it. And she hadn't freaked out. Not a bad start.

"We haven't really talked much about...marriage, have we?" he asked.

Teyla slowly shook her head. "No."

John could already feel his vocabulary shriveling up and blowing away in the wind. His brow wrinkled in frustration. "I'm not...good at this, Teyla."

"Just say what lies in your heart, John."

"You make it sound so easy," he replied with a grin. He didn't know why this was so hard for him, but he was resolved. He was going to get through this. He had to try and explain. "It's not because I haven't been thinking about it. I have, for a long time now. And it's not because I don't want to. I do. I just..."

Teyla raised her hand and cupped his cheek.

"God..." he murmured. The slightest touch of her skin and he was under her spell. He could practically hear her. He was hers and she was his. He didn't need to fear.

"When I was...married before," he tried again, "Nancy...she wanted the picket fence. A nice house, dog, 2.5 kids, and a husband who came home every night, not one who was usually halfway around the world running black ops into enemy territory. When she finally moved on, I couldn't really blame her. I wasn't there, Teyla. I wasn't any kind of husband. I didn't even love her enough to fight for her. I just let her go." John paused and chewed his lip. "I nearly let you go, Teyla, but it wasn't because I didn't love you. When you left, I thought that maybe you had decided that you didn't want me either. Lord knows, I would have deserved it."

"John..." Teyla broke in.

"Wait...I need to get this out while I still can," he pleaded with her. "Teyla, I don't know if you want to marry me. I know I want to marry you. I want to spend my life with you. But, I don't know if I know how to be a good husband and you deserve better than that. I'm still trying to figure that part out and you're way too important for me to screw this up again."

John reached down and laid a soft kiss on her lips. "I don't know how the Athosians do marriage proposals, but on Earth they're usually a pretty big deal. If you're willing to wait, I'm going to ask you to be my wife, Teyla, and I want it to be special. Something to remember and not," he rolled his eyes, "something we decided because I had a brain-sucking squatter in my head and couldn't keep my mouth shut."

Teyla leaned into him for another kiss. She lingered against him. "John?"

"Yeah?"

"I am glad you could not 'keep your mouth shut'," she confessed. "I love you and when the time comes that you are ready to ask, I will be waiting with my answer."

* * *

When John woke up, he was tucked cozily in his own bed and in his own sheets. For all the time he'd spent asleep in the infirmary, there really was no replacing being able to lay down and rest in his quarters. His eyelids flickered open, his gaze landing on the end table on his side of the table. A half-full glass of water sat next to a worn paperback copy of "The Art of War", Stephen Hawking's "A Brief History of Time", which he had read but kept out mostly to taunt McKay with, and a small stack of comic books. Just where he'd left them.

What was missing was Teyla. Last he remembered, she was sitting next to him in bed. It was turning into a nightly thing for her to reach into herself and create a bridge for the three of them. Bedtime was the best time for it from a logistical standpoint, mainly because the experience of connecting to their child usually left them completely exhausted. They took the opportunity to get close to her, to each other, and to say goodnight to their little girl. Not that she understood their words, but they could feel that she was aware of them and had a basic sense of their familial bond and the love they had for her.

However, John didn't recall even getting that far last night. Still recovering, he had fallen asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He did have a vague memory of the warm, tingling sensation inside him and hearing Teyla's bewitching voice inside his head, saying, "Rest well, John."

John took a deep breath and rolled over, savoring the scent of her on his pillows and the way the mattress conformed to his body. He stretched and moaned his contentment into the pillow.

"Teyla?" he muttered from where he was, feeling too good to move and risk spoiling it.

A few moments later, she appeared in the doorway of their bedroom carrying a cup of tea. "Ah, you have awakened. I was beginning to wonder if you had not slipped into a coma," she said with a wink. Teyla sidled down onto the bed next to him.

"Not quite," he smiled.

"How are you feeling, John?"

He took a quick mental inventory. No headache. His stitches were itching a little bit, but he felt rested for the first time in a week. "Good," he nodded. "Really good."

"I am glad to hear it."

John studied her and wondered what time it was because she looked ready to go. "So what have you got going on today, sweetie?"

"I have the summary on Filos I must drop off for Mr. Woolsey to peruse," she said.

"That the one with the quarry and those..."

"...duriks?" she finished.

"Right," he said with a grimace. As big as oxen and twice as muscular, John figured they came in awfully handy hauling stone and whatever else is was they mined on that planet, but the rancid smell of those things almost bowled him over.

"Once that is done, Ronon has asked that I sit in on his group lesson before lunch. He wishes to teach them a few new holds and it is easier accomplished with two instructors."

John cocked a wary eyebrow.

Teyla frowned at him. "I will merely be demonstrating proper positioning, John. I will not be engaging Ronon in a match."

"I didn't say anything," he said.

"You did not have to," she returned. With a sigh, Teyla continued, "After lunch, Ronon said he would be free to come here and 'hang out' with you, if you would like?"

"Sure," John said with a shrug.

"I will let him know," she replied. "While he is here, I would appreciate it if you and he could set up the card table and chairs in the living room."

"Oh, that's right. Ladies poker night."

Teyla nodded. "I had thought of canceling, but Jennifer assured me that you were satisfactorily improved and after I requested to take over for Amelia, it did not seem appropriate."

"It's not a problem, Teyla. I can make myself scarce for a few hours," he smiled. "Besides, you need a little girl time, right? Play poker, talk about boys, paint your nails, pillow fights..."

"What are you talking about, John?"

John cleared his throat, returning from the adolescent fantasy land his imagination had led him. "Nothing. You girls'll do your thing. The guys will do our thing."

Curious, Teyla asked, "What sorts of things?"

"Oh, you know...beat our chests, slay our enemies, eat pizza, drink beer. Man stuff," his matter of fact delivery amused her.

"Man stuff," she repeated with a giggle. Then, she firmly stated, "No beer."

He promised, "No beer. What about you? After lunch, what are you up to?"

At that, Teyla got quieter, unsure of his reaction. "I was planning on visiting Sgt. Capshaw. I am hoping he will reconsider his position and allow me to assist him. I believe that meditation would be of no small benefit to him and if I am able, I would like to begin right away."

While John mulled over the thoughts rolling through his head, he could see Teyla preparing to put up a fight if need be. He'd pushed her too far and her defensiveness was a byproduct he was responsible for. It was another thing he could add to his list of things to feel guilty about, especially after what he suspected she'd done for him, unknowingly or not.

"Okay," he responded. "I'll, uh, see you later, then. Before the wolves descend."

Teyla, thrown by the ease at which he acquiesced, slowly nodded. "I should probably get going. Mr. Woolsey will be expecting me shortly," she got out.

"Teyla, wait," he called to her before she could stand and leave him to his own devices. "I wanted to ask you something real quick."

"What is it?"

"It's nothing really. I'm just curious," he told her. "This past week, when you've been...connecting...?"

"Yes?"

"Have you been thinking about my getting better?"

Teyla's face turned as she grew perplexed at his question. "Of course, I have."

The corners of his mouth tugged upward. "I figured."

When he showed no sign of an explanation, Teyla asked, "John, what...?"

He reached out and pulled her toward him. He let his forehead lightly kiss hers.

"Thank you," he breathed.

He closed his eyes and caught her lips in a sensual embrace.

* * *

Even as Mason's door slid open, John still wasn't sure what he was going to say, but he'd had to come. If Teyla showed up here and he hadn't taken care of this, he knew how it would go. Teyla would come home disappointed and frustrated, and Capshaw will have let go of something that might actually be a big help to him.

The beleaguered marine answered and did the first part for him.

"I heard you busted out," Mason broke the ice.

"Strictly sanctioned this time," John replied, pulling out a pathetic attempt at a smirk. "Apparently when you get better, they let you out."

Mason frowned. "I wouldn't know."

_Great, John. That's just great._ _ Might as well have brought along a little salt and started pouring! _ "Ugh...Capshaw, I didn't..."

"Is there something I can do for you, sir?"

John decided for both their sakes, the best thing would be to cut to the chase. "Teyla...she's gonna drop in you later."

Mason exhaled and his jaw tightened, "Colonel, I told her not to..."

"Don't fight her on it, okay?" John cut him off.

"Sir?"

Inside, John groaned. He may have been able to say what he wanted to Teyla, but he didn't know if he was capable of doing it again. "Capshaw, just take the meditation lessons. Do whatever it is you need to do. I shouldn't have railed on you like that and I shouldn't have interfered."

"Colonel...," he shook his head, "...you were only protecting what's yours."

"Teyla doesn't need protecting," John commented. "But I'm trusting you, Sergeant, not to force her into needing to protect herself. If you even suspect that you're on the edge..."

"I won't, sir," he asserted. "You can trust me."

John's expression remained solid, but inside he was sad things had come to this. "Listen, a bunch of us are gonna get together at Lorne's tonight. Around 2000. It's not gonna be much, just food, probably some video games, Ronon'll probably wind up arm wrestling someone..."

"So, the usual, then?" Mason snorted.

"Pretty much," John responded. "You should come."

"Thanks for the offer. Really. But, I don't think so," he answered, seeming disheartened. He threw out a smile trying to lighten the mood a little, but it faltered quickly. "I, um...I'm due for another trip to the infirmary around then. I don't really think I'll be in the mood for a party."

John nodded. He tried not to let on that he knew exactly what he was referring to. If Capshaw wanted to keep things under wraps, then that was how he'd play it. "Offer stands if you change your mind."

Mason smiled. "Thanks."

John turned away.

"Colonel?"

"Yeah?" his head swiveled back around.

"It's good to see you up and around, sir."


	15. Games People Play

**Chapter 15 – Games People Play**

xo

Mason sat on the floor, his legs crossed in a modified Indian-style position, eyes closed and listening to Teyla guide him through each step. As she instructed, he tried to "allow each breath to cleanse and renew" him. He sought out the serenity that she seemed to embody. Having gotten to know the Athosians when they'd been in the city, he'd been in awe of their ability to stay centered even in the wake of the unspeakable tragedy that they'd come through. Teyla, in particular, always held a restful countenance that he was envious of. He hadn't been able to find rest in...a long, long time. Even now, in the tranquil environment he found himself in—the darkened gym, lit only by candlelight and the odor of incense wafting in the air—Mason was having trouble curbing the turbulent stream of emotions pouring through his mind and body, threatening to leave him broken and wrecked.

His sessions so far with Dr. Wilcox had been trying to say the least. This wasn't his first rodeo. The military had very strict treatment protocols when it came to battle injuries, especially when a lot of physical therapy was involved and the doctors start throwing around the letters P,T,S, and D, as a potential stumbling block. So the middle-aged psychologist came as no surprise to him. He did what every other shrink had done in the past. He asked intensely personal questions that he would rather go ten rounds bare-fisted with a starving Wraith than answer. How had he found the experience of his initial recovery and rehabilitation? How had his mother's passing so soon afterward made him feel? What was going through his mind when he was arguing with Dr. Keller? He'd made an honest attempt to cooperate, but that same penchant for honesty refused to conceal the unqualified resentment he felt at the intrusion. It bled into his tone, his demeanor, and saturated his veins.

Then, the psychologist had hit him with the lowest blow yet.

_"You've managed to defy the odds, Sergeant. According to your file, no one expected you to survive. But you not only recovered, you managed to re-qualify for active duty and now look where you are. It must make you proud to have come so far."_

He'd nearly laughed in the doctor's face and was sorely tempted to let a choice four-letter word express his contempt. However well-meaning his assessment, it felt like a cheap shot to what little remained of his dignity. When it came to the infirmary, he was currently redefining the term 'frequent flier', he was a marine stuck sitting on the sidelines, he was barely on speaking terms with most of his team, and he'd hurt someone who hadn't deserved it. Someone who'd refused to give up on him and managed to worm her way into his heart no matter how much he'd fought it. And her.

_"Proud? What the hell is there to be proud of?"_

Wilcox had held his straight, inscrutable expression while he rummaged through a pile of papers and pulled out the one he was searching for. He put on a pair of reading glasses and peered over the top of the black rims at him.

_ "I'm going to read you something, Sergeant, and I want you to tell me if it sounds familiar to you. Anxiety, sleep deprivation, seeking out isolation, frustration, anger, aggression toward others, loneliness, depression..."_

_ "That come out of my file, too?"_

_ "...thoughts of suicide..."_

_ "Wait...what?"_

_ "No, this isn't from your file and not all of the these may apply to you. This is a list of the psychological effects often seen in patients battling chronic pain. While the particulars and the severity of your case are unique, my point is—what you are going through is _common_ for people in your situation and we _can _work with it. If I can be frank, Sergeant...?"_

Mason nodded.

_"I'm amazed you've lasted this long. You wanted to know what there is to be proud of? People __injured as critically as you were don't just pick up and go on with their lives, but you did. Even while dealing with the ongoing physical aspect of your condition, you have a home, a job, friends... You've become a part of perhaps the single greatest venture in human history. Probably most impressive and infinitely more important, you still have the capacity to look beyond yourself. You still care about the people around you. For someone who has accomplished so much, there is absolutely _no_ shame in reaching out for help."_

Mason's eyes opened on the dark room. He threw his head back and a frustrated growl rent the air.

Keeping her poise next to him, Teyla's compassionate voice spoke. "It can take time. Do not get discouraged."

"Teyla, I..." he stumbled, "I keep banging my head up against this brick wall and the only thing getting dented is me."

Teyla broke her flawless posture which was a feat in and of itself given the unwieldy ball of baby she carried in front of her. She scooted to position herself so she was facing him, their knees nearly touching.

Mason stared into her sincere gaze. It was wrenching to admit to her. No one really understood what this was like, but somehow he thought she might.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this."

Teyla gently took his battle hardened hands in hers. The one that had only been recently freed from its bandages was still brightly decorated with tracks of red gashes, future scars to add to his collection. She settled them into a relaxed, resting position on her knees.

"The mind is capable of great things. I have known that all my life, but I have recently been blessed to receive...a further understanding of that truth. It may not be able to heal your wound, but if you allow it, it can ease your burden. You are of a strong mind, Mason, but that does not mean you must carry everything alone. I am here to aid you and I know you can do this."

He shot her a sideways look. Coming from anyone else, he would've been inclined to doubt it, but with Teyla...

"What makes you so sure?"

"I just know," she said with a cryptic light in her eyes. With an encouraging smile, she added, "If nothing else, by merely being awake, you have achieved something that Ronon never has."

"Consciousness?" A low chuckle rumbled through him. "That's a ringing endorsement if I've ever heard one, but it's something, I guess."

"Are you prepared to try again?"

Mason shook the stiff muscles of his body loose, then resettled into position. He took a deep breath and gave her an affirming nod.

Teyla held fast to his hands and with a voice of velvet, intended to soothe, she began to lead him again. She shut her eyes once again. "I want to you to think back to a time when you felt truly at peace. It will help you in the beginning to quiet your thoughts."

Unseen by her, his face fell. The last thing he wanted to do was take another stroll down memory lane; for him, it was a road riddled with potholes. A foreboding sense of disquiet immediately descended into the pit of his stomach. Images and sensations screamed through him. The cold eyes of the hulking, armor clad Jaffa warrior just before firing. Being dragged through the dirt while gasping for air. Being forced to listen to his chest sizzle because no matter how much he wanted to, he just couldn't pass out. The intensely bright lights over the surgical table in the SGC glaring down on him. The sound of a knock at his apartment door on base and his then-CO with a couple of MP's standing on the other side. The smell of the disinfectant that permeated the infirmary. The color red painting his vision, blinding him to everything and everyone unlucky enough to be in his path.

"Teyla, I can't..." he whispered, his breath speeding well beyond the slow, languid pace he'd been going for.

"It will be alright," she murmured in response.

He clamped onto her voice, his hands tightened around hers. She returned his grip with equal pressure, lending him her strength and support. With a concentrated effort, his breathing returned to normal. He couldn't drive away the images that haunted him night and day, but he tried to move beyond them.

Soon, he found them being replaced with new ones. They seeped in, brought forth out of the shadows unbidden, because he hadn't even known where to begin looking for them. Strawberries. A basketball leaving his arms, sailing straight toward the net. Ronon's arms surrounding his neck, putting him in a headlock during a friendly wrestling match. A soft hand running up his arm. Taking off one night as a teenager, driving into the mountains, and camping out in the bed of his truck. Staring up at the bright stars nestled in the black night sky. His mom watering her plants, turning the garden hose on him and the uncommon sound of loud laughter coming from his own throat. Sitting on Sheppard's couch among his friends and hurling a throw pillow at McKay. Setisse's brilliant green eyes sparkled and her elfish giggle rang in his ears, bringing a real smile to his face. A kiss in the dark. His arms pulling her close, but not quite close enough. A little taste of her and the strawberry lip gloss she wore lingering, persisting on his lips afterward.

His mind more at ease, he allowed those images to fade as well. Calmer and with a firmer grasp of where he was trying to get now, he continued to breathe. He eased his grip on Teyla's hands. She was still with him, but he was starting down the path on his own. Mason could feel the tension draining away. The pressure that he constantly felt, put on him by the expectations of others but primarily imposed on himself, began to lighten. At some point, she'd set his hands free and her pacifying instructions ceased, vanishing into the air like smoke in the wind. He and Teyla sat together in the still and quiet of the gym for a long time, the sound of their lungs filling in and out the only noise to be heard.

Eventually and inevitably, the silence came to an end, but not the way he'd expected. He heard a startled cry come from Teyla. His eyes flew open. She was leaning forward, her weight on an arm braced off to the side. Her free hand massaging the lower right corner of her back.

"You okay?"

"Yes, I am fine," she claimed. "However, I believe that she has decided the session is finished."

"Kinda hard to find inner peace when you're taking kidney shots, huh?"

A wide grin appeared on Teyla's face. "Indeed."

He got to his feet and held his hands out to Teyla. After taking a moment to get her legs braced beneath her, she accepted his offer of help and he pulled her to her feet. Teyla walked around the room, blowing out the candles.

"So, it's a girl?" he asked, reaching for the light panel to illuminate the room.

"Yes."

He smiled to himself. He wasn't a father and chances were, he never would be, but there was something he knew from experience. "Nothing kicks a grown man's ass quite like a little girl. She's gonna have him wrapped around her pinky finger from minute one. You sure Sheppard's up for it?"

"When the time comes, John will make an excellent father," Teyla said.

"Very diplomatic, but that doesn't answer the question," he pointed out. "You think he's toast, too. Admit it."

Teyla betrayed nothing, but the smile in her eyes did all the talking for her.

* * *

"It's about time. So much for hanging out," John gruffly greeted his friend. He'd been expecting the Satedan to show up an hour ago. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have cared about Ronon's tardiness. Their plans tended to be more on the fly anyway. He'd considered going for a run to kill some time and blow off some extra steam, but trying to be a good boy and a good patient, he wasn't allowed to exert himself yet and he was bored. Acting like a mature adult really sucked sometimes.

"Sorry," came a grumbled apology. "Had to give Lorne a hand."

"Oh..." John acknowledged. His XO had probably put Ronon to good use as miniature beast of burden, hauling food for the guys night from the mess hall. "I guess we kinda sprang this whole thing on him last minute, didn't we?"

"He says to tell you that storage is almost out of beer."

_Not good._ Not that folks around the city drank a lot and the Daedalus was underway with a hold full of fresh supplies, but there definitely would be a lot of unhappy people wandering around if they ran out.

"Hmm. We may have to talk to Woolsey about giving the Athosians a call. A little extra Ruus wine to tide people over?" John pondered aloud.

"Maybe," Ronon responded. "But..."

"But?"

"It's winter. They aren't gonna let it go easy," he pointed out. "That stuff..."

"...almost as good as lighter fluid. Inside and out. I know. I guess it's a good thing we know somebody on the inside," John joked. As if he'd needed another perk to be sleeping with the alluring leader of the Athosians. "Speaking of Teyla," he added with an artful glint in his eye, "You know what else is a good thing? You showing up when you did. I almost thought about _considering_ putting up the ladies' card table myself."

Ronon's bearded mouth twisted. "Don't let me stop you."

"Well...you're here now...and Teyla is gonna be home soon..." he went on innocently, wondering how far he could milk this before he would be forced into taking that run for survival's sake, "...plus, Keller says I really shouldn't be..."

Ronon let out a peeved growl. "Where is it?"

"Spare room."

John followed the huge warrior as he stalked into the empty bedroom next to the kitchen. Leaning folded up against the wall, the card table really wasn't much. It was bigger than your average four-seater, but recovery or not, John could've managed it easily. Only one of a few of its kind in Atlantis, it traveled around and lived with whoever was hosting the game. Amelia and a few of her indentured lackeys (otherwise known as hapless marines and Chuck) had brought it and the matching chairs over after Teyla had co-opted the night from her, much to the gate tech's relief.

"Thanks, pal. There's a cold beer in it for you," John offered. "Apparently, it's a hot commodity these days."

"You know you could get the chairs."

"I could..."

"Sheppard..."

"I'll get the chairs."

In a few minutes, they had set up the table in the living room and Sheppard had liberated three chairs from the spare room and set them into place.

Ronon gestured at the setup and the curiously low number of chairs. "That enough?"

"I don't know. It kinda depends on what's going down around here," John replied. "Well, there's usually...who? Teyla, the Doc, Teldy, Banks...I could _possibly_ remember overhearing a conversation about bringing Katie in..." he listed off.

"Mehra..." Ronon added.

"Vega comes every once in a while. Marie...Is that it?"

Ronon shrugged.

"Better go with four," came John's perfunctory response.

While John went to retrieve one more chair from the spare room, Ronon ambled into the kitchen and helped himself to the cold beer he was promised from the refrigeration unit.

"So, how'd the sparring lessons go earlier?" John called to him, sliding the final chair into place.

Having returned to the living room, he was caught mid-swallow. Ronon gulped, "Fine."

John sat on the couch, where Ronon flopped down next to him. "So, you and Keller still doing private lessons?"

"Yeah," Ronon raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"And?"

"And what?" The warrior took another drink.

John gave him a pointed look.

Ronon glared at him.

"Apparently... nothing," John exhaled. He wished for a second that he was allowed to join Ronon in a beer, if only to help him escape the icy temperatures suddenly emanating from the other end of the couch.

"You haven't really dated since..." John filled in the blanks for himself. "Have you?"

A heavy, gravel-filled 'No' came back at him.

John nodded in understanding. "Helluva big horse to try and get back on." When Ronon looked confused by the metaphor, he succinctly explained, "Dating again. It's hard."

"How was it after you and...?" Ronon asked.

"Nancy?" John shook his head, reliving the leftovers from the end of his first marriage. "It didn't really help that she'd already moved in with somebody else, but... It was weird. When you've been with someone for a long time, suddenly the idea of being with anybody new is a little...scary."

Ronon stared blankly ahead. He could guess at what was flying through his head. Memories of his world and the woman he loved, both lost.

John tried to steer him away from getting too engrossed in the past. "'Course, you know Keller. You're friends. That must make it a little easier."

Ronon snorted. "Maybe. Didn't help you and Teyla much."

"Hey!" he feigned indignation. Privately, he was just thrilled to get a reaction out of him. John waved broadly around at his quarters. "Living together. Having a baby. And I plan on making an honest woman out of her, yet."

"Took you long enough."

"You're one to talk. How many years has it been for you?"

"Too many," Ronon frowned and took another drink from the can rapidly growing warmer in his large hands.

John let out a sigh. "You know, buddy, Melena would want you to be happy. If it's with Keller, then great. If not, then, at least you've gotten your feet wet."

After a few moments of silence, Ronon's head slowly turned toward him. "Since when are you good at this stuff?"

"It's easy when it's not you," John said seriously.

As the troubled Satedan's head bobbed, accepting his point, the door slid open and Teyla came in carrying a bag with the candles she used earlier inside. John rose and met her before she had to go too far.

"Hey, sweetie," he said, giving her a tiny peck on the cheek and taking the bag off her hands.

As John quickly deposited the bag in the closet, he overheard Teyla.

"Ronon, thank you for helping with that," Teyla indicated the card table and chairs they'd pulled out. "I am sure John could have done it for himself, but..."

"It's fine, Teyla," Ronon clipped. It seemed he still wasn't much in the mood to talk.

John sauntered back in and tried to filled the awkward pause, "So, how did it go?"

"It was a challenge at first, but I believe he did well," she replied. "I will be meeting him again tomorrow."

"Okay." Ronon hit him with a questioning look, so he told him, "Teyla was meditating with Capshaw."

He nodded, but if it was physically or mathematically possible, his friend seemed to get quieter. His eyes searched for somewhere innocuous to land, but after a short time, he gave up.

"I think I'm gonna take off," he practically leaped off the couch and backed toward the door. "Meet you at Lorne's?"

"Sure."

An abrupt exit later, John turned to Teyla. "He's gonna be okay. He's just got some girl trouble."

"Of that, I am aware, and he is not the only one," Teyla informed him.

"What do you mean?"

"Ronon and Mason both care for Jennifer."

John rolled his eyes. "Well,...I wish I could say I didn't see that one coming, but..." He shook his head. Why was everything always so complicated? "So, what do we do?"

"Why do you ask me?"

He sidled up to Teyla and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Well, in my experience, girls tend to be a little bit better at this stuff than guys."

She smirked and let her finger trace the neckline of his shirt, teasing the muscles underneath. "I think you would be surprised, John. And as far as our friends are concerned...," she eyed him, "I am afraid there is nothing we _can_ do. They will simply have to work things out for themselves."

"Wait and see..."

"Yes."

"I hate that plan," he grumbled.

"As do I," she said. Teyla glanced over his shoulder at the card table examining his handiwork, and her face clouded over. "Um, John?"

"Yeah?"

"I believe I will be needing a few more chairs."

* * *

Teyla sat with her cards carefully positioned in her hands, revealing to no one the measly pair of sixes she held. Attempting to read her impenetrable mask and failing, Dusty was nibbling the inside of her cheek trying to decide whether to call her bluff. She remained perfectly still, not even batting an eye at the pot full of handwritten IOU's. In and among the items at stake were a paperback copy of a book called "Pride and Prejudice" from Jennifer and an extra bottle of facial cleanser from Katie. Teyla would enjoy those, but there were a few things in there that Teyla had little use for—her own promise to get someone out of a workout with Ronon and the offer to put in a good word with the man of her choice. But, she very much wanted to get her hands on the last of Dusty's chocolate supply.

It was tense standoff. It ended with a groan from Sgt. Mehra as she tossed her hand onto the tabletop and Teyla beaming while she claimed her winnings.

"Is there any point in me asking if anyone wants to play another hand?" Jennifer asked the peanut gallery, while everyone handed her their cards and she formed them into a neat pile.

"I don't think so."

"Not a chance."

"With what?"

Marie had to excuse herself from the party. It was getting late and she was doing an overnight tonight.

"Okay, who's bright idea was it to teach Teyla to play poker?" Dusty exclaimed, bemoaning the loss of her precious stash.

"I think we have Col. Sheppard to thank for that one," Jennifer answered.

"That is true," Teyla confirmed. "John taught me very soon after I came to live in Atlantis."

Ann Teldy put in her two cents. "I don't know what he was thinking. You have the perfect poker face. You could clean out half the city."

"I have a pretty fair idea what he was thinking," Dusty eyed Teyla with an irreverent expression.

Teyla smiled and defended her lover as he was not here to defend himself. "He was introducing me to different aspects of your culture."

"Oh... that's so sweet! She honestly thinks that."

"Dusty...," the major tried to check her, but she'd learned a long time ago that Dusty was like a police-trained German Shepherd; once she had latched her teeth onto something, short of a direct order, it was nearly impossible to get her to let it go.

While most of the women were accustomed to Mehra's outspoken, uncensored opinions on any subject, any time, anywhere, Katie was still very new to this and stood up.

"Can I get anybody a refill?" the timid botanist asked. She received a couple of polite assents and a grateful 'thank you' from Teyla for her help.

The feisty sergeant, however, didn't miss a beat in defending her position to Teyla. "What? He definitely wasn't just spending time with you because he wanted to be Earth's ambassador to Athos."

Bringing the pitcher of lemonade over to the table, Katie braved a comment, in her own unassuming way, "I just can't imagine Col. Sheppard having...that kind of motive. He's always so nice."

"True," Amelia backed her up. "They hadn't known each other very long, after all."

"Okay, I'll give you...he probably wasn't actively trying to get in your pants," Dusty allowed with a shrug, "But! Don't doubt for a second that it never crossed his mind." With an emphatic wave toward Teyla's belly, she insisted, "You can't argue with Exhibit A over there."

"And it only took them four years to get here," her team leader pointed out sarcastically.

"Eh, nobody's perfect," Dusty shrugged.

Ann sighed and shook her head at her friend. "Everybody ignore her. She's a little bitter. She just broke up with Murphy."

"Oh, sorry, Dusty," Jennifer offered while Mehra grabbed a few bite-sized jyra fruit from one of the small snack bowls scattered all over the table. "I thought you two were going great."

"You know...," she reflected, "...every guy that comes through here is either married to his job or looking to nail anything with a pulse." She added belatedly to the two women in the room with men they were happily paired with, "No offense, Teyla, and Katie,...well...don't even get me started on McKay..."

"Now...," Katie spoke up, "I know that Rodney can be a little bit prickly sometimes, but he really is a good man."

"Indeed, he is," Teyla interjected, proud to see Katie standing her ground against Dusty's formidable personality. "Rodney is one of the most surprising people I have ever known."

"I'll have to take your word for it, I guess," Mehra bowed to their judgment and with a frustrated sigh, she continued, "Dating's just so complicated now, it doesn't seem worth it half the time. Don't you just wish sometimes you could go back? Back when you were younger and it was the first guy and the first date, and all you really had to worry about was who was paying and how your breath was because he just might kiss you at the end of the night?"

"Who was he?" Ann asked, her teammate's soft, underbelly making a rare appearance.

"Jason Tambe. Seventeen years old and everything my parents wanted for me," Dusty said with a twinge of remorse. "I wanted him, too, but not the rest." She gave Teldy an easy elbow to the arm. "What about you? Love left behind? Your first?"

Teyla listened closely to the heartfelt confession of her close friends.

"I've never been in love. Not really," Ann said. "I was moderately obsessed with Geoff Kilgore when I was nineteen and was completely shocked when he asked me out. We dated for a little while. He and I..." she smiled inwardly, "He was my first. We didn't last long. It was kind of a summer thing, but while we did..."

Ann took a deep breath and handed the baton off to Amelia.

"Peter Weston. He was my high school sweetheart. Looking back, it wasn't exactly the most fulfilling relationship ever, but it seemed like it at the time," she mused.

"So when did you...?" Dusty asked.

Amelia groaned at herself. "Prom night. Captain of the football team. I know...it's such a cliché, but like said, it was high school. Katie? You're up."

The shy red-head sat up straighter in her seat. "Well, um..." she stammered for a moment, trying to gather her courage. "I was...engaged once. It was right before I graduated from college."

"What was his name?"

"Allan. His name was Allan. He was a philosophy major."

Dusty chortled quietly. "I'll bet_ that_ never got old."

To Teyla's surprise, Katie actually laughed at that. "It did. It really did. That's why I broke it off with him."

"Damn right you did," Dusty congratulated her. Her eyes moved to next seat down. "Teyla..."

The Athosian woman queried, "What do you wish to know? My first experience with a man or my first love?"

"Both."

"Yes."

Teyla smiled serenely. Reaching into her past no longer seemed to hold the pain that it once did, knowing that she had survived it and she had the family she was always meant for. "When I was a teenage girl—I suppose I was about sixteen of your years—I was rather taken with a young man who lived in a village further inland than ours. His name was Ryson. He was a skilled hunter and I rarely saw him except when our paths would cross during a hunt."

"Don't tell me you lost your virginity in the woods," Dusty leaned forward, listening with interest.

"We moved away from the rest of our parties one afternoon..." Teyla said through a sideways grin.

"And in the middle of the day?" Ann added in mock surprise. "Scandalous, Teyla."

Teyla accepted their teasing lightly. "And as for love, I believe it is no secret that my first and only love has been John. I believed once that I was in love, only to find out that it was merely a shadow of the real thing."

"Okay, Doc," Dusty said, shifting her attention again and wringing her hands in anticipation. "You've got to come up with something really good to top that one. Boy in the hayloft, some resident that dirtied up your scrubs... Spill."

Jennifer's cheeks immediately began changing colors and she was mortified when it became obvious that everyone had noticed. She put on a strained expression and went for it.

"There's nothing to tell," Jennifer got out. "Nothing. Really. I haven't...I haven't actually dated much...at all. I mean, there was this one guy, Jared Michaels...when I was a resident..."

"What?" Ann asked, unable to comprehend what she was hearing.

Right on her heels, Dusty proclaimed, "You're gorgeous, insanely smart, and...blonde. Men love blondes! How is that possible?"

"Well, I...I graduated high school when I was fifteen," Jennifer explained. "I was already

halfway through college before I stopped being jailbait. Most the guys I was in med school with saw me as some sort of mascot, not the girl they wanted take out. And once I started working, I was so busy trying to prove to myself and everyone else that I could be a really good doctor, there wasn't a lot of time for dating. When it comes to that sort of thing, I have _no_ idea what I'm doing."

Most of the women sat in stunned silence. Dusty managed to close her mouth that had gaped open.

"Ladies, I am officially declaring an emergency. We have to find you a man, asap."

Jennifer started protesting vehemently. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no...", she rattled off, but her voice was almost drowned out as the conversation shifted gears entirely. Ann, Dusty, and Amelia rapidly started talking amongst themselves and comparing notes.

"Dr. Hanson."

"Get serious, would you?" Dusty chided Amelia.

"Sorry, it was the first name I could come up with."

"What about Nathan Samuelson? Linguist? I'll bet he knows what to do with that tongue of his," Ann suggested.

Dusty shot him down equally as quickly. "Just got divorced. Rebounds never work."

Amelia threw out, "What about Lt. Davies? He seems like the right type. Smart, great pilot."

"He's kinda skinny..." Mehra observed.

"We're not shopping for you."

"If they're not good enough for me, they're definitely not good enough for our girl."

Ann said, "Well, if your not happy with what we come up with, we could always go for the unattainable."

"We could, but there's usually a pretty good reason they're classified as 'unattainable'," Dusty fired back.

Teyla and Jennifer were patiently waiting for the exchange to lull before they tried to get a word in on the doctor's behalf, but Katie was curious and managed to get in a word. "Unattainable?"

Amelia started out with the air of a dignified educator, but her explanation rapidly dissolved into the rapid, matter-of-fact cadence of all girl talk. "Most of the time, unattainable guys fall under the 'married' or 'hot guy, but hopelessly gay' categories."

Ann picked it up. "There's also 'the boss', 'the best friend's ex'...people you're better off not touching unless you're actually _looking_ for trouble."

"And then, there's the rare and mysterious 'straight and available, but don't date' type," Dusty rounded out.

Amelia laughed. "Capshaw, right?"

Next to her, Jennifer stiffened in her seat and Teyla thought she heard an inaudible gasp of, "Oh, my God," slip out. No one else seemed to have noticed it, however. Teyla reached under the table and took Jennifer's hand.

"Right! Totally hot. Definitely something going on under the hood, but every time somebody asks him out, it's nothing but Rejectionville," Mehra agreed. "And let's not forget the Holy Grail of the Unattainable..."

Simultaneously, Dusty, Amelia, and Ann, all said, "Ronon."

In their hidden position, Jennifer's hands squeezed Teyla's tight and the Athosian was reasonably certain that the doctor's heart had stopped. Feeling her friend's utter humiliation, Teyla attempted to diffuse the frenzy of tired women facing an onrush of hormones.

"I believe that Jennifer is perfectly capable of deciding for herself who she would like to spend her time with. Who she chooses is none of our concern."

Knowing better than to argue with the pregnant woman, especially when the pregnant woman was Teyla, Dusty reluctantly nodded. "Okay, no fix ups. But seriously, Doc, you gotta get out there. Just ask somebody out. Have a little fun. Pickings are slim and you don't want to miss out."

"Has anybody else noticed that everybody seems to be pairing off lately?" Ann asked, stifling a yawn.

"It's nothing new," Amelia fielded the question. "People are just being a little more open about it since the Colonel..." she cast a quick glance at Teyla, "Since he's started putting down roots here, it was kinda like giving a seal of approval. Life here isn't like being on assignment at the SGC, where you can go home every night."

"Definitely not," Mehra put in.

"A lot of us have clocked a few years in Atlantis now, and the ones who came with the first wave are more than fours years in... Atlantis is our home and, at some point, we have to live a little, right?" Amelia finished with a smile.

They all grinned in agreement. The energy level in the room started to die off a little and people were beginning to consider calling it a night. Before they left, though, they all pitched in to help get the dishes cleaned up and they decided who's honor it would be to host the next poker night a month from now—barring unforeseen circumstance, of course. Another fact of life in Atlantis was that plans were made to be broken. The mantle fell on Maj. Teldy and the others volunteered to go ahead and help her move the table and chairs out that night.

While Dusty and Ann broke down the card table, Amelia, Katie, and Jennifer pulled out the few remaining chairs from Teyla's spare room.

"Why do we have to talk about guys every time we get together?" Jennifer wondered aloud while they worked. "We're in the greatest, most mysterious city ever built. Why does it seem to return to men?"

"It's a biological joke. No matter how appallingly arrogant, annoying, dirty, or stupid men are, we just can't help ourselves," Dusty theorized as they got the portable furniture moving. "But, it's a two-way street. How much do you wanna bet they're talking about us, right now?"

* * *

"Are the words 'sore' and 'thumb' ringing any bells for you, McKay? Get back here and get under cover."

"I've used up all my hand grenades. I was going after the, uh, gun over there." From his place on Evan's couch, Rodney waved his controller at the television screen trying to move his computerized counterpart back to where the others were hidden.

"We don't need another sub-machine gun. Ronon and Lorne have got enough ordinance between the two of them to keep the Germans on our six at bay," John explained the foursome's strategy next to him. "We're almost there. All we have to do is get across the square without being spotted and we can take this thing with just our sidearms."

"Well, call me crazy but I think the odds of succeeding improve with the big gun that shoots lots of bullets as opposed going with the little gun that only has six," came Rodney's rebuttal.

"He has a very good point," Radek said, watching the action of the video game from behind. "The probability of success..."

"...goes down every second we stand around here waiting for the bad guys to pick us off," John finished.

"Aim before you shoot," Ronon glowered at the physicist.

"If you go after that Thompson, you'll blow our position."

"I still think we should've played Monopoly."

Lorne groaned. "We could have, but you always insist on being the Bank and screwing around with mortgages. Who adds interest rates to Monopoly?"

"There's nothing wrong with making the game a little more challenging and may I add, more true to life," McKay defended.

"Rodney, in real life, mortgages aren't fun. But, you wouldn't know that seeing as you've never actually _had_ one," John taunted him.

"And you have?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have," John replied. Sure, his stint in that house had been a short one, lasting only as long as his marriage. And when he considered realistically the actual amount of hours spent there, he really hadn't lived there much at all. "Besides, you complain every time someone else gets Park Place."

"It's prime real estate!"

"Uh, Colonel,...we've got tanks headed our way," Lorne broke in.

On the screen, the digitally animated tanks began firing on the square. Explosions bombarded the area.

"Great!" Lorne muttered as he and Ronon moved away from the other two, toward the enemy.

Honing in on the mission at hand, John implored Rodney, "Will you just come on? We've got to end World War II."

"I hate to break it to you, but World War II ended 65 years ago," McKay spoke rapidly.

"64."

"I was rounding up."

"Are you coming?"

"Yes, yes, I'm coming," Rodney got his character into gear. "But, if Hitler conquers Europe, it's on you. I hope you can live with that on your conscience."

Sheppard rolled his eyes and responded wryly, "I'll do my best."

John maneuvered his man through the wreckage of the town square, dodging a hail of bullets and artillery fire, and Rodney's guy following closely behind. At the other end of the square, on the opposite side of the four-way split screen, Ronon and Lorne battled valiantly to hold off the enemy soldiers and tanks. They managed to bring a tank and the men driving it to a fiery end, before the game came to sudden and jarring stop.

"Yes, what?" Rodney yelled into his earpiece. The three soldiers, realizing that the physicist had just pushed pause in the middle of a pitched battle, stared up at him dumbfounded.

"You're kidding me!"

"I told you take that damn radio off!"

Ronon bellowed in irritation, "McKay!"

"If you had to work with the staggering amount of incompetent people that I do, you'd never take off your radio, either," Rodney told them. Then, into the comm unit, he said, "No, of course, I wasn't talking about you. Now, what is it?" He paused, listening to the scientist on the other end. In seconds, he condescendingly inquired, "Did you plug it in?"

"Oh, Rodney..." Zalenka rolled his eyes.

"Okay, fine! You plugged it in!" McKay said, getting an earful on the other side of the conversation as well. "Have you checked the cooling system?...Okay. What about the, uh, failsafes?..."

"The game, Rodney..." John prodded him. "People all over Europe are waiting for us to kick Hitler's ass."

"Just...!" McKay shushed him. "What about power regulation? Maybe you have a bad..."

He halted mid-sentence and stood up. His eyes went wide. John and the others watched as Rodney dropped his controller and started mumbling to himself. To everyone's surprise, he stalked toward the door without a word.

"McKay!"

"Where the hell are you going?"

Rodney paused and turned around with a smile on his face. "I am a genius!"

John looked at him sideways. "Oookayy..."

"The Ancient device...765...I know what it does!"

* * *

Author's Notes: Not a psychologist/psychiatrist/therapist of any kind. Please suspend disbelief a little on the shrinky stuff. This was sooo hard! Hope you enjoy!


	16. Calculated Risk

**Chapter 16 – Calculated Risk**

xo

Teyla opened her eyes and took a yawning, satisfying breath. In the incandescent morning light, she was gloriously comfortable and relaxed tucked in the sheets of the infirmary bed. She beamed at the sight that greeted her. John meandered up and down next to bed with a small bundle cradled against his chest, his head tilted slightly to the side, gently nuzzling his precious cargo. She thought she saw the dark hair of her daughter's tiny head peeking over his shoulder, around the white blanket she was swaddled in. Not wishing to break the spell of the moment, but without the will to be even this small distance away from either of them another second, she softly spoke his name.

In keeping with the leisurely tempo of his walk, he gradually spun so she could see his face. She had never seen John so free, so unburdened. So happy.

"Teyla," he smiled. "She's beautiful. You were amazing."

"Was I?" she asked. Her hands unconsciously moved over her now flat abdomen. She found it curious that she could not remember having given birth.

"Absolutely," he said with adoration. He carefully shifted the little girl and brought her to rest in his hands, so he could see her face. "Ten fingers, ten toes, and she looks just like you. She's perfect. You want to hold her?"

Teyla let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Her long held anticipation at getting to take her child in her arms threatened to run away with her. "Please."

John, evidently wearing his mantle of new father proudly, settled down on the bed at her side and relinquished the newborn to her. Astoundingly light, it was one of the most pleasant feelings she had ever experienced. One of her fingers smoothed away the edge of the blanket, revealing to Teyla her baby's face. Her little fists were balled up and resting atop her stomach. She was asleep.

Teyla glanced over her shoulder to look behind her. She felt strange. Unsettled. Eerie. Like she was being watched.

"She is alright?" she questioned the man she loved.

"Of course. Why wouldn't she be?"

Teyla cast another searching eye around the room. "I do not know. I just...I have this feeling..."

"Don't worry, sweetie," he comforted her. He kissed her cheek. "You're just tired. Maybe you should try and get some more sleep."

"Perhaps," she said distractedly.

She leaned on John's shoulder and ran her finger down her young daughter's cheek. So soft. Almost unnaturally so, in it's pure, untouched state. Teyla wished she could preserve it just the way it was forever, but she knew all too soon life would have it's way. With one hand supporting the back of her head and the other underneath her, Teyla raised her up to where the infant was nearly upright. The blessing needed to be performed. From mother to child, an Athosian tradition from the time of the Ancestors and passed through the generations.

A sound from behind, caused Teyla to rapidly bring the baby back to her chest. She curled around her, her body shielding her. Something was there, biding its time. Something was coming.

"John," she said, hearing the fear in her own voice. "You must take her."

She set her daughter back in his arms, his confusion clear. "What's the matter?"

"Take her. You must get her away from here."

"Teyla, what...?"

"Please, John!" her desperation spreading through the room like ripples in a pond, growing and building as she felt whatever it was drawing nearer with every breath. "Go!"

Teyla's eyes shot open, air moving through her lungs in earnest. In the darkness of the early morning, she groped for a sense of what was real and what was merely shades of her nightmare. She clutched at her body and nearly cried for joy when she felt the firm roundness of her belly still there under her sleepwear, the heavy weight of it more real to her than anything else. Everything was alright. A torrent of emotions rushed through her. She was relieved and elated that the malevolent presence was gone, most likely just a figment of her hormonally influenced imagination. But at the same, she found herself choking back a sob. Though her daughter was safe and would yet be hers, she felt keenly the sting of not being able to touch her or look at her.

Sprawled out on the other side of the bed, face down and with one arm hanging off the side, John slept soundly. Teyla could hear the low rumbling in his chest that some would find distracting, but she found comforting. Sliding along under the covers, she edged her way to him. Even in sleep, he radiated strength, and it was exactly that strength she needed then. She rested her head on his back and draped her arm across his body. His body, it's welcome heat, and his presence—not only physical, but the sense of him that grew in strength inside her mind by the day—they renewed her, made her whole. She nestled against him and relaxed. With a silent prayer to the Ancestors to watch over them, she closed her eyes once again.

* * *

Another day. The same as the last. Mason put one foot in front of the other, walking down the same old hallway toward the infirmary. Every day twice a day. He would do the same tomorrow. And the next day and the next. Maybe... Things had gotten strange over the last several days. He still kept mostly to himself, but the few people he had regular contact with were starting to act weird around him. Beckett's polite chatter during his appointments had gone from friendly to all business. The doctor came in, took care of him, and promptly went about his day. He felt like someone had turned up the heat in his meetings with Wilcox, too, like he was under some kind of microscope.

He was being evaluated. That was probably it. The timing was about right for it. With the next wave of recruits en route in the Daedalus along with the fresh supplies, reassessments were being done on nearly everyone to decide who was staying and who was rotating back to Earth. Despite the progress he'd made with treatment and, primarily, in meditation with Teyla, Mason couldn't deny that he probably had 'prime candidate' stamped on his forehead and nobody wanted to be the one to break it to him.

He rounded the corner, moving along at a pretty good clip, with thoughts of what he would do if he was sent back playing in his head. The people he'd be leaving behind. Thankful for the money he had put away, because he didn't have a place of his own anymore. Where he'd most likely be transferred for treatment. Whether it was time to just call a spade a spade and hand in his resignation. Concentrating more on what was bothering him instead of the path ahead, Mason abruptly found himself in an unexpected struggle for balance with someone else who hadn't exactly been paying attention.

As his arms grappled for purchase, eventually finding it around the body of the woman, a gym bag she'd been carrying hit the floor with a clatter. Before he saw her face, the way she felt against him and the scent on her blonde hair, told him it was her.

"Jennifer!"

"Mason!"

"What are you doing out here?" he blurted out like a nervous teenager.

He hadn't actually spoken to her since he'd kissed her and at the moment, he was kicking himself for it. For that amazing kiss that he couldn't get out of his mind. He shouldn't have done it. He'd known from the beginning it wouldn't work between them. He had way too much baggage to be able to offer her a man even remotely resembling what she deserved, but before he cut things off, he hadn't been able to resist the temptation to taste her. Just once. He had to see what it would be like, but now with her so close, all he wanted was to do it again and again.

Jennifer bent over to retrieve her bag, but he beat her to it, picking it up for her. Inside the bag, Mason felt the unmistakeable shape and weight of bantos rods and he got the answer to his question.

"I, uh...," she began equally as awkwardly, "...I'm on my way to the gym. Ronon and I...we're sparring together."

Mason nodded tensely while a knot formed in his stomach. "Kinda early, isn't it?"

She looked away from him, avoiding his gaze. "Well, I have a...meeting...to get to in a little while and my shift later... It's the only time I really have."

"Right," he managed. He shoved the hurt he was feeling away. He didn't have any claim on her. He'd let her go. It was what was best. So why didn't it feel that way? But, also nagging at him was the lie in her eyes. She was hiding something from him, too. Mason didn't expect that. If he was getting shipped out soon, he thought she, of all people, would have the decency to tell him. He tried not to sound too brusque, like he wasn't disappointed, angry, and getting eaten alive in envy of his friend, "You two have fun."

"Mason, wait," she implored as he stalked past her.

He turned, but continued pacing backward, away from her. "I've got somewhere to be, Jen. Sorry for...running into you."

Mason swiveled back around and didn't look back.

* * *

Ronon expertly dodged another clumsy shot and his hand shot out, catching and holding the rods perfectly in place.

"Sorry," Jennifer said miserably.

"Don't be," his gruff tone not so intimidating for her as it once would have been. He released the weapons and she lowered them to her sides. "When you swing, make it a part of your arm. Part of your natural movement. And if you think too much..." he added with an crooked eyebrow, expecting her answer.

"...I'm dead. I know," she replied, feeling a smile creeping up.

Every time she felt her thoughts getting the better of her and distracting her, Ronon was always already on top of it, ready to call her on it and bring her back into the moment. And this morning, it was exactly what she needed.

Already out of balance and under pressure, her brief encounter with Mason had thrown her completely off her axis. Considering the last time they'd spoken, they'd kissed and he'd immediately ended their ill-defined friendship/relationship, she had no idea where they stood with one another and she had no idea what to say. But, his curt manner and abrupt exit made it perfectly clear what he wanted. He had no interest in being friends or anything else with her. Too much damage had been done for him to live with and she just needed to accept it.

Jennifer felt Ronon's large hand surround her shoulder. It fit easily into his palms. "Hey, you okay?" he pulled her out of her head once again.

With a heavy sigh, Jennifer said, "Yeah."

Ronon responded with one of those expressions that made women all around the city melt. Despite his overt masculinity and tough exterior that was intrinsic to him, he let her know that he wasn't convinced in the most surprisingly charming and..._cute_...way.

Certainly not unaffected, she broke into a smile. "I'm okay. There's just...a lot going on, you know?"

"You sure?" he pressed.

"Yes."

"You ready to go again?"

A quick bob of the head and they both settled into ready position. After a few short beats, Ronon took the lead. He always did. He set the pace and the tone. It was a crawl compared to the blinding and devastating maneuvers she'd seen him perform, but she was thankful that he was taking his time with her. Not rushing her and allowing her to find her own rhythm and confidence in this venture that was still very new to her.

Ronon crossed his sticks and bore down on her in an attempt to entrap her weapons. She remembered the counter move that he'd taught her and pulled it off flawlessly, much to her own surprise.

He seemed pleased, too. "Nice move," he complimented her.

Her Satedan task master tested her a few more times, before ceasing his assault. He hung back, waiting for her to come to him, forcing her to go on the offensive. She hated when he did this. She was still supremely uncomfortable with the idea at striking out at anyone without a _real_ threat. Not to mention, this was precisely how she'd screwed things up just a few minutes earlier. If it was up to her, she'd just block all day. At least that way, there was very little chance of anyone getting hurt. Of course, she knew and Ronon knew that in a real fight, that strategy would only serve to get her killed. Knowing that Ronon would continue to wait, Jennnifer screwed up her courage and swung. She thought she saw a grin flash across his features, as he went to block her attack. How he enjoyed this so much, she didn't think she would ever understand.

Their sticks clattered together over and over. She tried to match the strength of his blows and even though he was taking it easy on her, she knew she would never be able to really present him with a challenge. But she tried, nonetheless. Her stubborn nature would permit no less.

Nearing the end of the session, he threw another wild card at her. With a move of lightning speed and intensity, Ronon sent one of her rods flying across the room, leaving her with only one weapon with which to defend herself. Behind her, he wrapped his long, muscle bound arms around her and crossed his stick, entrapping both her body and her weapon uncomfortably tight against him. He was testing her, to see how she would respond, to know if she was developing more of an instinctive knack for finding her way out of a situation she hadn't encountered before.

_"Go for the unexpected. Don't be afraid to fight dirty."_

Giving heed to Ronon's advice in a previous session, Jennifer threw caution to the wind. Abandoning any thought of freeing her bantos rod, she used his vice-like grip as leverage to power a kick to his shin. She doubted that she'd really hurt him, but the momentum of her weight acting against him _did _managed to throw him off balance just enough to get him to loosen his grip and free her stick. Acting before she could think any further, she swung. Ronon saw the blow coming and ducked his head to the side, but not quickly enough. The flying bantos rod clipped him just over his eye.

Yet again, proving to him what a giant marshmallow she was still, she dropped any thought of finishing the match and covered her mouth in shock and abject remorse. "Oh, my gosh! Ronon, I'm so sorry!"

He looked at her, completely surprised that she'd managed to nail him. And, dare she think—impressed? A bright grin cracked on his face.

Relieved that he wasn't mad or hurt or anything, Jennifer let the enormity of her accomplishment sink in. She'd hit the man most people around here considered untouchable, the biggest badass in the Pegasus galaxy, and she was still alive. She heard a frazzled laugh escape her.

Out of long ingrained habit, she returned his earlier question through her fit of the giggles, "Are _you _okay?"

His crooked smile firmly in place, he brushed a hand over the spot where she'd tagged him. He checked for blood, but found nothing. "I think I'll live. Maybe I should ask a doctor, though?"

Now, that was an idea she felt at ease with. She gave him a quick, but hardly professional, cursory exam. Her fingers brushed his brow lightly, checking for a wince, but mostly liking being able to touch him. It felt really good and Ronon didn't seem to mind that she was standing a lot closer than she normally did. Dusty's unsolicited advice nagged at her.

She blinked and declared, "I don't think there's any permanent damage done," but she forgot to pull her hand away.

Suddenly the humor seemed to have gone out of the situation. Ronon eyed her carefully, but even a romantic novice like Jennifer could feel the sparks. Her nerves crept in on her and she brought her hand down.

She'd denied herself the possibility of romance and the attentions of men for a long, long time. Along the way, it had gone from being out of her reach because of her age compared to everyone else, to being a low priority because of her career. And, she realized, it had also become too big a risk to take with her fragile heart, so she'd shut down that part of herself. Again, Dusty's words prodded at her. She wanted to find love, but if she was ever to succeed, she would have to first try. And here was this beautiful, caring man that made her feel safe who seemed to like her despite her dizzying confusion and complete lack of self awareness.

"Jennifer," Ronon started. "Do you want to...?"

"Would you go out with me, Ronon?" Jennifer spilled out. "Like...on a date?"

He paused briefly and it sent her into a mental tizzy. What had she done? What the heck was she thinking asking out the leatherclad, gorgeous, intense guy who was on every woman's wishlist from here to the Milky Way and was WAY out of her league? How would she ever look him in the face again? And, of course, she'd have to. A lot. He was one of the infirmary's most frequent visitors. Stupid, stupid, stupid... Where was all that over-thinking when she _really _needed it?

"Yeah," he said and a smile cropped up on his face. "That'd be...good."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

_God, Jennifer. He said yes! Shut up! _ "Great," she said demurely, trying to not to act like a fool. She couldn't believe it. She actually did it.

* * *

John found himself stirring early that morning. He alarm clock wasn't due to go off for another twenty-five minutes, but sleep was already quickly becoming a thing of the past. With Teyla in his arms, he was content to simply lie there for the time being. He didn't think that after everything they'd been through together as friends and then as lovers, he would ever be able to take the privilege of sharing a bed with Teyla and getting to wake up next to her for granted. He reveled in listening to her soft moans. They didn't have to be the ones derived from him pleasuring her, although they were certainly another favorite of his. Just the little noises she made as she slept and eventually began to stir, and the supple touch of her skin as she rested against him were all he needed. And what came next.

Teyla rolled her head toward him and as she opened her golden brown eyes on him, she smiled.

"Morning," he grinned back.

Her only response was to raise her arms over her head, stretching her limbs. But in a very convenient and he suspected, intentional move, she twisted her body so that as she stretched, she rubbed up against him. He let out a growl of appreciation and pulled her in, closing the narrow space between them.

"You sleep okay, last night?" he muttered into her neck. He had a vague recollection of her coming to him in the night, but for some reason, it stuck out to him.

"It was only a bad dream. I was not aware I woke you."

"You didn't. I just...I thought I heard something, that's all," he tried to make clear, although it was in no way clear to him. He just remembered hearing her voice in his head, more scared than he'd ever heard her before, pleading with him to go. More of those hyper-vivid dreams Dr. Keller said would probably happen. Whatever she'd dreamed of had terrified her, but John was glad she'd turned to him instead of getting up and spending half the night unable to relax. John glanced over at his bedside table to the red, digital numbers of his alarm clock. He moaned, "It's getting to be about that time."

Echoing his disappointment, Teyla responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and saying, "No. You cannot go yet."

"We both knew this day was coming."

"That does not mean I have to like it," she eyed him. "I rather enjoy having you here when I want you."

John lips played upward as Teyla began to work hers along the length of his neck. With a chuckle at her antics, he said, "I have to admit, it has it's perks, but you heard Keller. 'Cleared for duty.' Besides, wasn't it you who, just yesterday, said that if I didn't stop leaving my socks all over, you'd...?"

Teyla's teasing came to a screeching halt. Her eyebrow raised at him in pseudo annoyance. "You are right. You _should_ go back to work."

"Maybe, I don't want to."

John picked up Teyla's game where she'd left off, mirroring the extremely sensual moves she had performed, on her own neck. His lips and tongue savored the slight salty taste of her against her natural, almost sweet smell. He delighted when she quivered under his touch. He gradually moved his lips lower and lower toward her tempting curves. His hands followed suit even further down, cupping her assets appreciatively.

"You could stay, I suppose," she said, soon followed by a encouraging hum. John's hands massaged up and down her back, slipping underneath the barrier of her nightgown. "You would have to explain to Mr. Woolsey the delay of your return. And Major Lorne..."

"That conversation could get a little awkward. Plus, McKay's called a special meeting and there's this debriefing..." he rambled, but stopped short as he felt her toes running up and down the back of his leg, sending a thrill up his spine. "I probably _should_ go," he stated with absolutely no conviction whatsoever.

Aroused and under her thrall, as far as his body was concerned, he wasn't going anywhere. For a while, anyway. They'd played this game before. They both knew he was returning to duty, but it was fun to pretend for a while that they could stay in bed all day and worship each other. It made it all the more intense knowing there was clock ticking, and not just the one that was still set to go off. Once Teyla had the baby, their already meager alone time together would all but disappear. John was eager to make what time they had left count and so was Teyla, it seemed.

"I have a 'debriefing' of my own in mind, John," Teyla whispered, slipping her hand behind his back and beneath his clothing. John laughed, feeling her kneading his behind like dough.

"I gotta tell you, Teyla. I'm starting to feel like I'm getting mixed signals."

"I apologize, John. Please, allow me to make myself clear."

She reached to yank on his black, panda printed t-shirt and slid it over his head. Teyla's hands reached for him.

"Better?"

"Much," John got out before he brushed his lips against hers, helping himself to a tantalizing bite off her lower lip.

Without a lot of extra time to waste, John immediately disregarded Teyla's concern about his littering the bedroom with clothes. In this case, he didn't think she'd mind. He tossed her nightgown off the edge of the bed where it hit the floor without a sound. While her fingers were pushing at the waistband of his pajama pants, he stripped her of her remaining undergarments.

John's tongue trailed down her chest and drifted toward her deliciously ample breasts. He nipped and sucked at them, careful of their recent sensitivity. The only thought he could hold onto for long was his burning desire to give her pleasure and the last thing in the world he wanted to do was hurt her accidentally. The way her hands threaded in his hair and the soft, crooning noises above him suggested he was doing a fine job.

He did, however, notice the odd cadence of her breathing. If he were the egotistical type, he might have assumed she was being left breathless at his dazzling skill. He was good, but he wasn't _that_ good.

"Are you okay?

She nodded quickly. "Yes, I... I am merely having a difficult time... catching my breath..."

John raised up and taking her hand, lifted her so she could sit up. After a few seconds, she seemed more comfortable and her respiration returned to normal.

"Thank you, John," she offered.  
"You sure you're okay?"

"Yes," she said, clearly apologetic for interrupting both of their fun with the less entertaining realities of pregnancy. "I am afraid that I cannot lie on my back for very long, anymore."

Tossing the unnecessary apology to the wind, John ran his hand down her thigh to the crook of her knee. He smiled suggestively and let her know under no uncertain terms, that the fun was not over. "We'll just have to see that you stay off your back, then, won't we?"

He quickly thought through the different possibilities, growing even harder and eager for her at some of them, but he didn't want her to have to do any of the work this morning. All he wanted was for her to relax and enjoy herself. Keeping his hand on her leg, he steered her back down on the mattress, encouraging her to lay on her side. Once she was settled and comfortable, he scooted in to mold his body to hers, entwining their legs together. John resumed their lovemaking with all the passion he'd held before the short interruption.

He got lost in her body, not leaving an inch untouched. He took his own pleasure at feeling Teyla writhing against him, begging for release. His unhurried pace was prodded when the alarm clock did finally sound. With an aggravated grunt, he pried himself from his love just long enough to shut the infernal thing up and throw it across the room to land on the floor with their clothes. He was welcomed back into Teyla's arms and his fingers stroked her hot, wet center, preparing the rest of her to welcome him in. John brought her head to rest on his arm like a pillow as he maneuvered himself into place. With one of her legs slung over his hip and the other just doing it's best to stay out of the way, John slowly entered her.

As he began to move inside her, John thought of how many times in the past he'd fantasized about being in this situation with her. Making love to her, listening to her cry out his name in ecstasy, heavy with his child. His.

No. This would never get old for him.

She clung to him fiercely as he ground against her.

"John," she mewed.

He slammed his eyes shut. He couldn't take that again. He'd nearly come, seeing her exquisite face calling to him, exuding a euphoric fervor he knew too well because he felt the very same for her.

"God, Teyla, you're so beautiful," he groaned, nearing his climax again. He buried himself in her, his cheeks nuzzling her neck as he drove on, willing her to come with him. Teyla's body began tightening around him, driving him mad with bliss. John couldn't dam up his reaction much longer.

"Let go, baby. Let go," he implored her. His chest against hers creating the most glorious friction, a perfect complement to the primordial, but transcendent dance happening below. He felt Teyla's nails turn on the skin of his back, the only pain he'd ever happily and hungrily accepted. He watched her throw her head back as her orgasm overtook her and only in her screams of rapture did he allow himself the joy of completion. His hot seed spilled into her, moving with the rolling muscles inside her, seeking a target that he'd already hit. John's moans of pleasure intermingled with Teyla's as they began the slow descent to earth.

A rap on the door, shattered their entrancement with one another. John hadn't even pulled out of her yet and reality was again asserting its annoying self.

"I'm gonna kill him. I mean it this time..." he said in between labored breaths. Half an hour early to walk with him to the meeting and the impatient banging told him exactly who it was disturbing them.

Teyla had put two and two together, as well. "Perhaps if we ignore him, he will go away."

Another rapidfire set of knocks set John's teeth on edge. With a groan of vexation, he pulled away from her and hissed, "...Teyla...I'm getting my gun and that's IT!"

* * *

"Dr. McKay, am I reading this correctly?" Richard Woolsey exclaimed.

_And, so it begins._

Sheppard gaped at him incredulously. "Rodney, this is same damn thing that nearly swallowed your entire lab and you want to put it in Capshaw's chest? People have been saying it was bound to happen for years, but I think you've finally lost it!"

"I realize that it may sound...a little unorthodox...," Rodney began. He was caught a little unprepared for the strength of John's response even he knew this would be a hard sell when he, Carson, and Jennifer had decided it was time to assemble this little meeting. But for some reason, Sheppard seemed particularly upset with him this morning.

"Trust me, Rodney. That isn't the word that I'd use to describe this," John fired back.

From his place at the conference table, Woolsey pored over the provided notes. He put up a hand, silencing the bickering for the moment. "Gentlemen, if you'll allow me a moment to catch up? The device in question—AD-765—was originally intended by the Ancients to work as a method of containing electrical surges in their damaged warships, and at some point in it's creation, they integrated a biological compatibility. Am I with you so far?"

"Yes, that's right," Rodney confirmed. "According to what we've been able to translate from the database, the Ancients were considering the benefits of organic technology."

"Wraith envy?" John put in, looking over his own copy of the packet of notes, charts, and reams of lab results.

"Possibly. In the middle of a war, I would imagine there would be an upside to having a ship that could repair itself," McKay replied patronizingly. But generously acknowledging his own lack of expertise in battle strategy, Rodney added, "In theory, anyway."

John shot him a look that said he wasn't impressed by the attitude, but he did seem intrigued at the idea of self-repairing ships.

Carson continued on where he'd left off, "As far as we can tell, human physiology was meant ta be a baseline for their research, merely the first step in the project."

"But, the testing never got that far, isn't that correct? The project was abandoned and the Ancients returned to Earth before it was seen through?" Woolsey followed up.

"Aye, that's correct."

"And what makes you think it could be of help to Sgt. Capshaw?" Richard inquired. "From what I understand, your own research has been almost exclusively on _in_organic equipment."

McKay scowled, expressing his impatience at having to explain everything. While he knew that once briefed, Sheppard would get it and see what they were trying to accomplish, but he still had to convince Woolsey to sign off on it and he despised the tedium of the exercise. Working night and day with Carson since his epiphany, he was more impatient than usual. Mason had been suffering long enough and he had the answer. At least, he hoped he did.

"Organic or not—with this particular device, the difference is practically immaterial. The mechanics should translate either way. In simple terms, 765 acts similarly to your basic electrical diode." Again annoyed, seeing he would have to dumb it down a little more for a certain lawyer turned expedition leader. Rodney doubted he'd ever even changed his own light bulbs, let alone had a decent grasp of electrical principles. "It's a small electrical component in most electronics. It restricts the flow of electricity so it can only move in one direction."

"In the human nervous system, our neurons create a small amount of electricity in order ta carry signals through the body, into the brain, and back again," Carson related Rodney's theory in medical terms. "In Sgt. Capshaw's case, in addition ta the injury ta his muscular tissue, he has quite a large section of nerve cells that have been irreparably damaged and combined, they are both invariably sending pain signals ta his brain. Now, AD-765 won't repair the muscle tissue, but what we believe it _can_ do is follow the line of damaged cells, cap them off, and prevent any of the pain messages from ever reaching his brain."

"No pain?" John asked, seeing for the first time the real potential for a cure for his friend and teammate.

So far content to leave the talking to him and Beckett, Jennifer broke her silence. Knowing Sheppard would take her seriously given her long running fight to find a cure for Mason and her status as CMO, Rodney was confident her input would speed up the process.

"No pain," she confirmed, leaning on her elbows.

John grimaced and folded his arms over his chest, not quite ready to bite. "We've talked about options like this before and I seem to remember you saying something about him being left permanently paralyzed."

"In this case, it shouldn't be an issue, Colonel. The device would only stop the signals one way. His brain would still be able to communicate with his muscles, allowing him full mobility."

"Why am I sensing a 'but' coming on?"

Jennifer frowned. "Mason would most likely lose _all_ feeling in the effected area. Good, bad, _and_ indifferent."

"He'd still be able to function normally, though?" John asked seriously.

"It may take him a little getting used to, but yes," Jennifer confirmed, her eyes pleading with him. "That's the idea, anyway."

John stopped his questions to consider what he was being told.

Woolsey took the moment to address his own concerns. "As Col. Sheppard pointed out, how are we to know that we won't have a repeat of the incident that occurred when the Replicators flooded the city's mainframe?"

"This _would _be a clear case of size being an issue," John quipped, but listening intently for Rodney's answer.

"Yes, well...since my, uh, narrow escape from death, I've been able to determine that the size of it's...reaction...is directly proportional to the amount and type of current it's exposed to. 765 only grows large enough to do the job, then stops on its own. Yes, when it came into contact with the displacement current, it turned...into..."

"Godzilla?"

McKay ignored John's comparison, "...but, we're only talking about 50-90 millivolts here."

"That's the approximate amount voltage used in the body's nervous system," Beckett explained.

"I would still feel better about authorizing this if there were a way to know what would happen," Woolsey said.

"Well...," Rodney began, "...thanks to Sheppard's bonehead move when he was infected with the parasite..."

"Hey!"

"...we, at least, know that the device has no discernible reaction to normal tissue. We've been able to handle it safely since then with no problems whatsoever."

"But we aren't talking about normal tissue, are we?" Richard pointed out. "Are you certain there's no way we can test this on something other than Dr. McKay's equipment?"

"Ya can't just create a bundle of nerve cells and hope for an accurate result," Carson jumped in. "Nerves cells are far too complex. Electrical impulses, over 50 different kinds of neurotransmitters, chemical signals... Each neuron works both individually and as part of a much larger collective. Even if I had the ability ta grow a sample for testing, there's virtually no chance the device would respond to it as it would a working nervous system."

"And what happens something goes wrong? If the device fails? Looking at these photos, I can't imagine removing it would be an easy task," Richard continued his probe for answers.

Rodney, Carson, and Jennifer exchanged dour glances with one another. This was the fly in the ointment. Rodney spoke slowly, sadly. "Once in place, the only way we know of to deactivate 765 is to...cut the power." He emphasized, "All...the power."

Woolsey took in the ominous news.

John leaned forward in his chair and faced him as two friends concerned for another, needing for this to work, but sick with worry that it wouldn't. For the moment, they were the only two in the room. "Capshaw's not gonna like the sound of that, Rodney."

"It's the best I can do," McKay answered, genuinely sorry he couldn't do more, provide something better.

"I know."

Breaking into their talk, Richard inquired, "Have you...discussed this idea with Sgt. Capshaw yet?"

"No," Jennifer stated unequivocally.

"We discussed it amongst ourselves," Rodney said.

"I said no," Dr. Keller stated strongly, her protectiveness on hyperdrive. "We aren't going to wave this possibility in his face until we knew whether it is, in fact, a possibility."

Woolsey nodded, accepting the wisdom in that decision. Nevertheless, he said, "Without knowing his position, this entire discussion may be moot. With the risks alone, he may opt not to..."

"He'll do it," Jennifer and John both said spontaneously and with perfect precision.

"Mr. Woolsey, he won't hesitate," Jennifer added while she and John shared a meaningful glance.

Rodney watched Sheppard give Keller a short nod and John's eyes flashed at Rodney. He was sold. This was probably the only real chance at a normal life Mason would ever see and he wouldn't be the one who stood in the way. Rodney turned attention to Woolsey.

"I think everyone here knows that, I'm not the most...grounded person in the universe...exactly... I'm not an MD and even to me, this whole idea is borderline insane, but there aren't any other options and... The thing is, it just might work. We just need you to let us try."

"You agree with Dr. McKay's assessment, Dr. Beckett?" Woolsey asked, getting a final opinion.

"Aye."

"Dr. Keller?"

"Obviously, there's no way to be one hundred percent sure, but...yes. It's worth the risk."

The expedition leader went quiet. This wasn't a decision to be taken lightly or one he felt remotely qualified to make. A man's life was at stake either way.

"If Sgt. Capshaw is willing, I'm inclined to grant your request. Doctors, you have a go."

* * *

"This is a joke. This is some bad practical joke, isn't it?" Mason accused the quartet of doctors in front of him, but he really only could look to Jennifer. Without words, he begged her to tell him something he could believe. They'd all showed up at his quarters, saw themselves in, and just dropped this on him. This wasn't happening. It was the start of _really_ bad joke. Two doctors, a shrink, and a physicist walk into a room...

But, Jennifer... She wouldn't do this to him if it wasn't real.

"It's not a joke," Rodney pronounced.

She locked eyes with him. "It's true, Mason."

"This is what you've all been hiding," he muttered mostly to himself, ruminating on the fact that his long nightmare might be over. Or he could die. Or it might not work at all and nothing would change. Strangely, that last thing was what he was most afraid of.

"Assuming this works, it won't do anything to help your muscular condition. You will still need ta follow your physical therapy regimen," Carson reminded him.

"I also recommend that we continue to see each other on a regular basis," Wilcox said. "Teyla, as well. Once the primary stressor of your condition is removed, I'm sure you will make rapid progress, but this sort of long term stress doesn't clear up overnight."

He nodded, but didn't say anything.

Jennifer touched his arm, trying to gain his attention. To make sure he was really listening to what they were saying. He looked at her. The lie he saw earlier was gone. All that was left was the same caring that had always been there. "Odds are you won't be able to feel anything in that region, Mason. Nothing. You're gonna have to be more careful. If you get hurt, you may not know it until you've done a lot more damage or...it's too late."

"And I would most definitely avoid getting electrocuted or just electricity in general," came McKay's words of wisdom. "That could definitely be bad."

A sudden laugh burst out of him. "Thanks for the advice, Rodney," he commented. He had meant it sarcastically, but it didn't come out that way. At the moment, he couldn't put down McKay's genuine, if not well thought out, concern.

Mason sank down on his bed and covered his face. The weights and the grueling workouts would have to stay, but he could live with that. If this crazy idea worked, he wouldn't able to feel any of it. _God. Not to feel. _ Not to feel like he was being shredded from the inside out, not to be sick anymore from medication that would certainly kill him one day. He could keep the career he loved, his home here in Atlantis, his friends. Maybe one day, he could even have a life beyond that. That alone was worth any risk they could throw at him.

"What's going on in there, Sergeant?" Dr. Wilcox inquired.

Mason peered up at him, his eyes glassy. "What are we waiting for?"

* * *

John watched what was happening from the gallery above while Teyla held tight to his hand. Standing sentry closely behind him, Ronon had his arms folded over his chest. Santiago and Lorne kept a respectful distance and Woolsey and Dr. Wilcox kept one another company further down. Rodney joined the group as soon as he had delivered 765 into Beckett's capable hands. There was nothing for any of them to do, but wait. And every last one of them hated waiting.

"Alright, my dear," a surgically masked and gloved Carson spoke to Jennifer over Mason's prone, sleeping body. "Shall we proceed?"

The two took a few deep breaths and got to work.

* * *

Author's Notes: I originally intended to cover a lot more in this chapter, but it seems I don't know how to shut up, anymore! Had I continued on, this chapter would've gone a little Godzilla on me (not to mention, it would have meant a longer wait time between chapters and I know how much some of you HATE that...), so here's the first half. Look for the next chapter to kick the plot forward another couple of steps! As always, opinions are welcome and appreciated. The more detailed the better! LOL Thanks!


	17. Old Demons

Author's Notes: Tag to **Whispers** written by Joseph Mallozzi and Paul Mullie. Ambition is such a burden sometimes. Had to chop down my chapter yet again. *smacks head on keyboard* Hopeless...completely hopeless... Thank you, Camy! You know what for!

* * *

**Chapter 17 – Old Demons**

xo

The fact was that Mason's surgery was never going to be one of those that lasted hours upon hours. Success or failure all really hinged on one thing—whether or not 765 did what it was supposed to or not; something they would know almost as soon as Carson laid the device on his chest. The scrub nurse was already doing the last little bit of prep, spreading a generous amount of Betadine across Capshaw's exposed and scarred skin while Beckett and Keller took care to see that the device itself was as sterile as possible. But even with that narrow window of wait time left, for John and everyone else in the gallery, the wait already seemed interminable. All of them, with the likely exception of Mr. Woolsey and Dr. Wilcox, were accustomed to walking into the unknown. Hell, they did it almost on a daily basis, stepping through the Stargate. But, sitting back while a good friend went through a medical procedure where no one, not even his caregivers, knew what would happen wasn't something they were prepared for.

Rodney paced back and forth in front of where John and Teyla stood. Ronon, with his 'approach with caution' demeanor, tracked him as he strode anxiously across the enclosed space. John could only assume McKay was running through all the math and data one last time in his head before they passed the point of no return. Teyla, to anyone else, would've seemed a model of calm concern, but John knew better. He could feel it. Despite her enthusiasm this morning, the nightmare she was determined to play off still gnawed at her. Shades of whatever had terrified her poured into her worry for Mason, creating a potent mixture of emotions that bled into John's mind like a sieve.

He was in the middle of deciding what he should do about it when from the operating room below, he heard Carson say, "Alright. Here we go."

* * *

"Just place it right on top of the scarring. That should do it," Rodney instructed him over the intercom that piped into the operating room from the gallery above.

"Yes. Thank you, Rodney."

Carson took his direction with patience. Rodney's meddling, after all, had little if anything to do with the fact that the scientist wasn't one to easily relinquish control and entrust his colleagues to do the leg work for him. It was a symptom of his nerves. Something they all shared.

As the treating physician on the case, Carson took the lead while Jennifer waited in the wings in case she was needed. Not that he expected there would be much for either of them to do. AD-765 would dictate how this went and, as much as they wished otherwise, they wouldn't have much say in the process or it's outcome.

Beckett's gloved hands gently placed 765 just left of the rotator cuff of Mason's right shoulder and released. With the tremendously lower voltage of the human nervous system versus the displacement current it had responded to previously, the reaction was comparatively slothful to take hold, but soon enough the inky black tendrils appeared.

"We've got a response," he called into the air for the benefit of those above, all the while listening intently to the steady beeping of the heart and pressure monitors, the constant thrumming of his own pounding heart intermingling in between.

Once they began, the tiny arms of 765 swept along Mason's chest as a serpent would across the desert sand. Beginning at the shoulder, they smoothly cut along the pectoral muscle and spread to over an inch wide as they swung along underneath the other and ending at the ribs. Miniscule curls as shiny and dark as obsidian crept outward along the edges where the scarring wasn't so neat, giving the appearance that Mason was awash in a sea of black flame. Then, all apparent growth ceased.

Carson indicated to Hannah the portable scanner at the side of the table. "Let's get a scan here, quickly. We need ta see what's happening."

With all the buildup of possible complications looming over his head, Beckett was left with a sense that things were going a little too smoothly to be trusted. With the monitor set on a table, Hannah set up the scanner on a metal swing arm hovering over Mason. Dr. Beckett dissected the readouts.

In movements too minute to be seen with the naked eye, the scanner picked up waves coming from the Ancient device as those on the surface of a body of water. The activity was atypical to what they'd seen in their prior testing. At this point in their many experiments, 765 had stilled and morphed into a more solid, yet pliable substance. Similar in texture to rubber, in chemistry the material was far more complex.

Without warning, the tendrils plunged downward, piercing his skin, and sending Mason's heart rate and blood pressure skyward. The monitors around them went nuts. Every muscle in Mason's body stiffened and began to quake, reeling from the full scale invasion it found itself under.

"Carson, he's convulsing!" Jennifer cried.

"Hannah! Succinylcholine, now!"

* * *

"What's happening, Dr. Beckett?" Mr. Woolsey demanded.

Busily keeping tabs on his patient while simultaneously emptying a syringe into Mason's IV line, Carson shouted, "The device is following the damaged nerve endings into his body!"

"Why the hell is he shaking like that?" Santiago, Mason's former team leader and friend, demanded.

"Sgt. Capshaw is heavily sedated, but the level of general anesthesia he's currently under is marginal at best!" Beckett swiftly explained.

John heard a collective gasp from everyone present. Behind him, Ronon snarled. Her face was practiced, stoic and hard. But, Teyla's horror needled at him, magnifying his own emotions. Witnessing Mason's body jerk under the stress, John could only imagine the appalling scene were he awake. "Damn it, Carson! Give him something for the pain!"

"Believe me, Colonel, I'd bloody love to! But, any further pain blockers and paralytics we would ordinarily use would only serve ta deaden his nervous system, thereby destroying any chance of the device working!"

"Mason knew this might happen," Rodney said pensively. "We explained all this; the conditions, the risks..."

"You knew about this?" Ronon thundered.

"Why the hell didn't you or Beckett tell us?" John yelled.

"What would you have said if we had?"

"I would have said to find another way!"

Rodney defended himself vehemently. "Do you honestly think we didn't go over every possibility? Every scenario, every potential outcome? Some other way? _Any_ other way? Every one of us here knows that this was his last chance and this was the only viable option! Mason knew it and he chose to do it, anyway!"

_Stop it, all of you! _ Teyla's thoughts screamed through the din. _What's done is done! Arguing will help no one! Just stop!_

With the alarms still blaring urgently below them, John and Rodney fell silent. Rodney had never carried burdens like this gracefully and it showed.

John, meanwhile, felt utterly and infuriatingly helpless.

_There is nothing we can do, John._

_ Teyla, there's gotta be something!_

He looked up and his eyes landed on hers. He saw cracks forming in her perfectly composed veneer and felt the worry writhing in her heart. Ignoring everyone else in the room, John pulled her to him and held her tightly.

_ It'll be over soon, Teyla. Everything's gonna be okay. _

* * *

The muscle relaxant was starting to do its job and the convulsions began to abate, but as Beckett and Keller knew too well from watching the scanner's video feed, it wasn't over yet. The beeping from the heart monitor was still racing well beyond normal. The tendrils continued to spiderweb their way across the long branches of nerves deep inside his body.

"Heart rate?" he asked.

"155 bpm," Hannah promptly responded.

"Pressure?"

"139/90."

Carson muttered, "Och...come on, son."

"It's going straight for his spine," Jennifer whispered to him. Over her mask, Carson thought he spied her eyes glistening.

765 kept moving, wrapping it's oily fingers around Mason's spinal cord and traveled upward. In strictly mechanical terms, it's response made a kind of sense. It was running the length of the 'malfunctioning wires' back to where all the circuitry converged; the length of the spinal cord. From there, the pain messages would be fed straight into the thalamus. As Carson watched the grievous sight of the device spiraling up Mason's spine, he determined that 765 was, in essence, cutting out the middle man. If the signals couldn't penetrate the spine, they would never reach Sgt. Capshaw's brain. It was an excellent response, really. If only they weren't having to go through a living person's tissue to do it. _God knows what this is doing ta him!_ This had to work or Carson didn't think he could live with himself for what he was having to allow happen and short of killing him, he didn't know of any way he could stop it.

His jaw screwed tight, he ordered, "Hannah, please have the Vecuronium and morphine on standby. The second this _thing_ stops, I want a drip going."

"Yes, doctor."

"We won't have any way of knowing when or if this cockamamie plan has worked until Sgt. Capshaw wakes up and I'll be damned if he's in any more pain in the meantime," he bristled.

Jennifer prodded him. "Carson, look!"

Just shy of encroaching on Sgt. Capshaw's brain stem, the relentless push of the Ancient machine was grinding to a halt. Hopeful that the worst was over, Carson and Jennifer both turned from the scanner's image to Mason's chest. Over the next minute or so, the almost liquid form of 765's arms slowly transformed and solidified. The stress that had been cut into every fiber of skin and muscle, but mercifully absent from the lines in his face, began to trickle away. Mason's heart rate and blood pressure gradually lowered and stabilized as the device remade itself.

"Hannah, I believe that's your cue," Carson said quickly. While the red-headed nurse proceeded with her prior orders, the Scot turned to Jennifer. Indicating the ever-present circular device that had started it all in the first place, Carson asked, "What do ya say we finish this?"

* * *

The last remaining portion of the surgery had been completed relatively quickly and, thankfully, with very little drama. Dr. Beckett implanted the device and Mason had been taken to post-op. As the hours ticked by, duty came knocking for most of them. Santiago, Lorne, Woolsey, and Dr. Wilcox were all called away, but left with promises to check in later. Teyla followed Jennifer and Carson as the doctors busied themselves with various tasks around the infirmary, while keeping an unusually close eye on their patient's vital signs. Rodney paced and when he wasn't pacing, he fidgeted. Ronon sat hunched over in a chair, his arms resting on his knees. John had settled into the chair next to Teyla. They all needed to hear some good news; that the ordeal Mason had been put through wasn't for nothing. That it was for the best.

Teyla found herself after a time, leaning against the solid comfort of John's side. Her head rested on his shoulder, seeking a soft place to rest. While John's hand was absently settled on her leg, Teyla rubbed her protruding belly with easy strokes. She wasn't feeling well. She wasn't sick, but she had a terrible, nagging ache in the pit of her stomach. And she was tired. Exceedingly tired.

John's low, deep voice roused her from the nearly senseless state she'd allowed herself to lapse into. His hand tightened on her leg to get her attention. "You know, Beckett said that he's given Capshaw enough drugs to have a bull staggering sideways, so it's still gonna be a while before he wakes up. Why don't you head home and catch a nap or something? I can call you if there's any news."

Shaking herself awake, Teyla took in a deep breath and sat up. "I am fine, John."

"So says the sleepyhead."

"I would prefer to be here."

"Teyla, your tired. You didn't sleep that well last night. You've been...," he lowered his voice so that what he had to say would stay between the two of them, "...tapping into the baby's abilities..."

"I did not intend to, John," she said. In an unspoken apology for losing her temper with him and Rodney earlier, she explained, "My emotions...overwhelmed me for a moment."

"We got caught up in the heat of things too, Teyla. You didn't say anything we didn't deserve," he replied. "Look, it's been a helluva a rough few hours and you're seven months pregnant..." John paused for a moment. She could see a slight trepidation in his eyes, as though he were afraid she would take what he said to heart, "...and it'd be weird if you didn't get a little...emotional...every once in a while."

Teyla couldn't help but let the whisper of a grin escape at the man she wanted to share her life with. His unease with dealing with emotions was practically legend, but here he was, practically giving her permission to be irrational and unleash the near mania she occasionally felt. On him.

Trying to keep a straight face, she said, "I am not certain you would survive it, John."

"I just mean, you don't have to be so strong all the time. And I think I'd do okay." With a cock-eyed expression and a sly grin, he added, "I might have to start wearing a TAC vest to bed and I could have the Marines on standby just in case..."

Teyla gave him a withering look and a lighthearted slap on the arm.

John chuckled. Without doing his typical checking of the room for unwanted attention, he leaned in and gave her a tender kiss on the cheek. Teyla closed her eyes and soaked in the small gesture of love he offered her that, not so long ago, he would have held in check. As his lips pulled back from her, she felt he deserved to know the other reason as to why she didn't want to go home, yet.

"John, I...I do not wish to sleep. Not without you near me."

His brows knit in troubled question. "This about last night?"

Teyla nodded slightly. How had he known it was still troubling her? Perhaps he'd picked up on it during her unintended connection with the baby earlier. As she was growing more accustomed and familiar with the process, it was becoming easier to lapse into it. She would need to show more restraint in the future. Not only was it draining physically, she had apparently gained the strength to bleed into someone else's consciousness as well. While she was blessed and desirous to share that kind of intimacy with John, she didn't wish to impose that on someone else unless absolutely necessary and certainly not without their express permission. Fortunately, as he was sufficiently preoccupied, Rodney had not put together what exactly had occurred. She wasn't in the frame of mind to begin answering all his penetrating and inevitable questions yet.

"What happened, Teyla? What's got you so tied up in knots?"

"It was so real, John," she confessed. "I have this dreadful feeling—cold, almost—that something is wrong."

"Something's wrong with the baby?"

"I do not believe so. I think I would be able to sense it if she were unhealthy or injured in some way," she assured him. She didn't want him to be agitated by what was undoubtedly just a dream. "No. It was wonderful to begin with. You were holding our daughter and we were together. A family."

"Yeah?" he chanced a slight smile.

"Yes," she returned. His joyful anticipation at the upcoming birth of their baby was completely charming and totally captivating. She wished with all she had that the dream had ended there. "And then, there was something else. A presence. Something wanting to take our daughter away from us." She looked troubled. "I cannot seem to shake it, John."

He grew pensive, undoubtedly reaching for the right thing to say to comfort her.

"It was just a dream, Teyla," he offered her. His strikingly handsome features grew harder, determined. He put his arm around her shoulders and brought her toward him. Teyla once again rested her head against his shoulder, the only space left between them was the armrests of their chairs. John kissed her hair. "_Nobody_ is gonna take our baby. Not as long as I'm still breathing."

Teyla squeezed his arm. "I, as well."

"Stay here, then," he stated. "I don't mind being your pillow. I just thought you might be more comfortable at home."

"I love you, John," she whispered as she settled in and closed her exhausted eyes.

"Right back at ya."

John went back to keeping his silent vigil alongside Ronon and Rodney as Teyla drifted off to sleep in her lover's arms. The sounds and smell of the infirmary having gotten nearly as familiar to her over the years as her own quarters, as long as she was with John, it was almost as though she was home. Teyla rested contentedly.

* * *

"Col. Sheppard, come in," Banks stated in his ear.

Ronon and Rodney, also wearing their radios, picked up their heads at the call.

Teyla had been sleeping in his arms for over an hour. The radio was the only real sound he'd heard since she'd gone to sleep. Since Ronon and Rodney were equally as tight-lipped as he was, the incessant open-frequency radio chatter had become his background noise.

"This is Sheppard."

"Colonel, Maj. Teldy just reported in from offworld. Mr. Woolsey would like to see you immediately."

_Great. _"I'll be right down."

John sighed. He hated to wake Teyla up, but who knew what steaming pile of trouble Teldy had dug up planetside.

"I got her," Ronon rumbled. The big Satedan stood up from where he'd set up camp and ambled over, ready to assume his position at Teyla's side.

"Thanks, buddy. I'll get back as soon as I can," John offered him and began to shift away from Teyla.

She did wake up briefly, but after he explained what was going on and Ronon sidled up to her, she quickly drifted off again. Ronon's long legs reached out, hooked the leg of a third chair, and dragged it over. He put up his legs, looking to John like he was settling in for the long haul.

John scowled at him. The giant with the huge muscles, that kicked his ass on a regular basis, was holding the woman he wanted to someday soon call his wife, and was a little too relaxed about it for his liking. He knew Teyla and Ronon had an almost brother/sister relationship, but he couldn't help but feel a sudden, primitive urge to take her right back.

"Don't get too comfortable, Chewie," he warned.

Ronon raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"And keep those eyes up," John added, gesturing with two fingers spaced at eye-width.

"Just go already."

John spun and left the infirmary stifling a smirk, but his return was both much faster and much more serious than he'd anticipated. Woolsey had gotten straight to the point and time was of the essence. Teyla had roused at his arrival, looking much more rested. He called Carson and Keller over to join the small group.

"What?" Ronon asked, seeing that something was up.

John arms were folded. "Looks like Teldy's found another one of Michael's labs."

A series of groans erupted, Rodney's a little more pronounced than the others. "Didn't we do this already?"

"Well, this one isn't on that list of planets we got from Nabel," John told him. "So, either Nabel was holding out on us..."

"...or he didn't know about it, or...," Rodney reasoned.

"...or it's new," John concluded.

"Should've killed him when we had the chance," Ronon growled.

"When exactly would we have had time for that, huh? When we were cornered by hybrids or when the planet surface was collapsing under our feet?" McKay pointed out.

John could see the instant worry in Teyla's eyes, and not wanting or needing another reminder of the chasm in his memory and his brutal near miss, he pushed the conversation on. "Regardless of what happened, this is the situation and we need to deal with it. We may have slowed Michael's plans down, but we all knew he wasn't gonna be stopped just because we trashed a bunch of his labs."

"So, what do we do?" Ronon asked.

"Get geared up. We need to get what intel we can. Find out what he's up to." John turned to Carson. "Beckett, you too."

"Me?"

"You're our resident Michael expert. You spent two years with him. You'll probably have more luck than anyone deciphering whatever's down there."

"Colonel, in case you've forgotten, I have a patient who's yet ta wake up from experimental surgery," Carson protested. "I can't just leave."  
John nodded. He cast a scrutinizing look at Jennifer. "I'm sure Dr. Keller can keep an eye on him," the comment as much a question as a statement.

Jennifer straightened up. "Of...of course, Colonel."

"Good. Then, let's get moving," John declared. "Gateroom. Fifteen minutes."

The team scattered to change and arm themselves, leaving him alone with Teyla. "I will remain here. With any luck, Mason will wake soon and we will have good news to report when you return," she said with a faltering smile.

When it came to Michael and what had happened to him the last time they met, Teyla's brave face had taken a heavy hit and had never fully recovered.

"We'll be back soon," John promised. He assumed a more formal stance with her, an exaggeration reminiscent of their old dynamic. "And I'll look forward to that report."

"Understood, Colonel," she responded with a smile at his attempt to cheer her up.

He almost got out the door before he heard her call after him.

"Be careful, John."

* * *

"I wish you'd told me we'd be doing so much walking," Rodney commented as the foursome trudged through the thick canopy of trees on yet another planet in Pegasus.

"Did I forget to mention that?" he asked innocently.

"Aye, you did," Carson responded. "You also forgot to mention the fact that we'd be rappelling down the side of a mountain. My legs are seizing up."

"I kinda thought that was the fun part," Ronon said from his place in the rear.

"Fun?" McKay interjected. "Where's a jumper when you need one?"

"Too much forestation, Rodney. There'd be nowhere to land it. Just relax, kids," John advised. "We should be just about there."

On cue, Maj. Ann Teldy, at the head of her team, marched over the rise and spotted them. "Colonel!"

The two teams converged on each other.

"Major," John greeted her. Looking around at everybody, John dispensed with the introductions quickly, "I think everybody knows each other, right? Maj. Teldy, Sgt. Mehra, Capt. Vega, and Dr. Porter." He, then, waved to his own people. "Dr. McKay, Dr. Beckett, Ronon Dex."

Assuming an oddly and overtly friendly expression, Beckett stepped forward and extended his hand to Dr. Porter. The tall, fresh-faced brunette graciously shook it.

"Carson. Call me Carson," he smiled. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

"Alison," she grinned shyly.

John, Ronon, and Rodney all exchanged a knowing look. Impatient, Rodney intruded, "Can we get on with it? I, for one, would like to get off this planet as soon as possible."

"Major," John took over. "Lead the way."

It was only a short walk to the entrance to the passageway that led underground.

"We were passing through the area when we picked up a low level energy signature. We were able to triangulate and get a lock on the signal and then follow it down into these catacombs. It's a bit of a walk," Dr. Porter explained with Carson listening intently, the others following behind.

"What else is new?" Rodney bellyached.

After a few more minutes of walking through the tunnels, their path opened up into a room containing several Wraith computer consoles and several apparatuses along the walls. They were human-sized and reminded John very much of coffins.

"Stasis pods?" he asked.

"Possibly," Carson answered. "Although, they look a wee bit different from those I've seen Michael use before."

The hissing sound of air decompressing drew their attention to Dusty, who had just opened one.

"Hey, Sarge!" John said firmly.

"Sorry, Colonel," she replied. With a wave to the pod, she said, "Empty."

"Thank goodness for small favors," Rodney muttered as he attached himself to one of the consoles while Dr. Porter shadowed him.

"Careful, Rodney."

"I'm disabling the security protocols now," the busy scientist declared.

"Good. I'd hate to wind up with three tons of rubble falling on my head," John responded. Unable to resist taking a little dig at McKay, he went on, "Porter, check his work. Make sure he does it right." He delighted for a second in Rodney's annoyed demeanor and scanned the room. It was creepy in here. "As soon as that's done, see what you can dig up on his research. In the meantime, Ronon, Teldy, Vega...let's get a better look around. Mehra..." she smiled expectantly, "keep an eye on them. Make sure they don't get into trouble."

Dusty's grin fell as he and the other three spread out to investigate the tunnel system they were in.

* * *

Jennifer set her book down in her lap in surrender. She'd been reading and rereading the same paragraph over and over and still had no idea what it said. She looked to her side at her sleeping charge. He had dark circles under his eyes, giving him more of a haggard appearance than a thirty-four year old should ever have, and marring his compelling attributes. Heaven knew how long it had been since he'd really slept.

_He's taking advantage_, she told herself. _That's why he's taking so long to wake up._

It had nothing to do with what happened earlier. The physical trauma. The shock.

For a fleeting moment, she wished that she hadn't insisted that Teyla go to the mess hall and get something to eat. Maybe if she had someone to talk to, she wouldn't be reliving what had happened. If only he'd wake up and give her a glimpse of those gray-blue eyes. Always straightforward, but at the same time, always holding back. Everything would be okay, if he'd just wake up.

A scant shift of Mason's chin had Jennifer dropping her book to the floor and rising to her feet. She leaned over him. His eyelids peeked open, granting her a flash of color.

"Mason?"

After a long moment of unfocused staring, his eyes fixed on her, he blinked. He began to breathe deeper. As Mason regain consciousness, he turned his head to the side, searching the room, trying to get his bearings. He didn't seem to pay any mind to the bandages across his chest or the sling temporarily immobilizing his arm.

In a slurred baritone, his lips formed the word, "Jennifer..."

"How are you feeling?" she softly asked.

He blinked a few more times, slowly.

"Drunk."

Jennifer caught herself mid-giggle and explained, "You probably still have some drugs running through your system. After what happened during the surgery, Carson didn't want to take any chances."

"That bad, huh?" the gravel rumbled in his voice.

Relief flooded through her. Of course, intellectually she knew that the sedatives would have protected him from any cognitive recognition of what was transpiring, but it felt so much better to see and to know directly from him that he didn't remember.

"It was rough," she said simply, then she confessed sadly, "It was...it was really hard to watch, Mason."

He replied, the light in his eyes still slightly dim, "Sometimes, it's all you _can_ do."

She took a little bit of comfort in his words, but she wasn't going to give heed to the temptation to let him take care of her. He was the patient here and he needed her to the strong one.

Jennifer quickly informed of all the information he would need to know, even though she wasn't sure it would all sink in at this point. "Your skin is still very inflamed and raw. We've got the bandages on and some antibiotics going to prevent an infection, and we'll be keeping an eye out for any sign that your body's rejecting it. We, uh, implanted the device in the thoracic outlet beneath the..."

Mason's left hand closed around her arm. "English, Jen. English."

She took a deep breath and smiled. "Right here."

With great care taken to avoid actually making contact, Jennifer reached for his shoulder and pointed out the small space between his clavicle and the first rib, currently under wraps.

"Jennifer," he said, appearing brighter and more in step, he looked up at her seriously and gathered himself. "I need you to tell me something...and be honest."

"What is it?"

"How does it look?"

"What?"

"Well, if I'm gonna be living with this sucker in me for the rest of my life, I've gotta know," he claimed, a impish glint in his expression. "Maybe, I need to be looking for a nice one-bedroom belltower somewhere. Think about a career change..."

"Oh, shut up," she responded to his teasing. She spied the eagle, globe, and anchor on his upper arm, something he'd told her that he'd gotten a year prior to leaving MARSOC to join the SGC. "You look...kind of like you have a new tattoo." A few moments of silence allowed the mood to return a little bit to reality. "Mason...," she tried to address the elephant in the room.

"I can't feel anything, Jennifer. Nothing," he said staring intently at the ceiling. The absolute purity of his astonishment both touched her and saddened her, in a way. "I mean, I feel pretty weird. It's like being numb, only without the pins and needles. I can feel my hands, but my right arm almost seems like it's coming out of thin air." He paused and turned to look her in the eye. "Jen, I can't even feel myself breathing."

Trying to ease the fear she saw, she stated confidently, "Well, you are. I'm a doctor. I should know. You are definitely breathing."

"Thanks."

"Anytime. I can't imagine what this must be like for you," she observed.

"It's...scary."

Her heart lurched. "But, good...right?"

A tentative, but entrancing smile found its way out. "Hell yeah."

* * *

Ronon stalked down the tunnels with his blaster at the ready. His instincts were hardwired for danger thanks to his years running and they were shouting to him that something here was very wrong. He listened to the others reporting their findings over the comms as they systematically explored. So far, it was a lot of technobabble that Ronon mostly ignored.

After reaching a juncture where he thought the tunnels might end, Ronon was presented with yet another path to take. He growled to himself.

"Sheppard, these tunnels go for miles."

"_Alright. Go ahead and double back. There's several large chambers up ahead. I'm gonna check 'em out. As soon as I'm done, I'll join you. Teldy? Vega? You good_?"

"_Like Ronon said, nothing but tunnels and tunnels and more tunnels_," the Major came in. She seemed to have run short of patience, as well.

"_Ditto," _Vega chimed in.

Ann commented, "_You know, there's a village about two clicks south of here. I wonder if these run right underneath it_."

"_More than likely_," Sheppard answered. "_Probably worth checking it out. See what the locals might know_."

Ronon made his way back toward the majority of their party. He made better time going back than he did coming out, relieved of the need to carefully inspect every nook and cranny. But even with that, he never relaxed his gun hand. After the horrific things of Michael's creation he'd seen and the lives taken by the booby traps left behind, he was taking no chances.

He was nearly there when Sheppard spoke again in his ear. Sounding out of breath, he said, _"Beckett..., I'm gonna...need you at my position."_

"Is everything alright, Colonel?" Ronon could hear the doctor's voice clearly in the chamber just ahead.

_"We've got bodies, Carson. A lot of bodies."_

"Dead...bodies?" Rodney squeaked.

_"Really dead."_


	18. Battleground

Author's Notes: I have a love/hate thing going on with this chapter, more so I think than any other chapter I've ever done. Some bits I love and the rest I just want to bury in the backyard and never speak of again. Ugh! Thanks to all of you for your wonderful comments and for sharing your opinions with me. They are so helpful and a give me a little of the boost I need to keep this sucker going!

* * *

**Chapter 18 – Battleground**

xo

"Master, one of the subspace beacons has gone dark."

Michael, with his cropped, ghostly white hair and his features, an amalgam of human and the Wraith he once was, stood at the command position on his cruiser. He accepted the computer tablet handed to him by one of his hybrid creations and studied the data.

"When did you get this?" he demanded, his dissonant voice echoing through the deck.

"Moments ago."

"It seems someone is nosing around in places they are not welcome," he mused. "Set a course for the nearest Stargate and ready a strike force."

"Do you wish to interrogate the intruders?"

He looked upon his lackey with all the entitlement and imperiousness of the Wraith. "In the whole of the galaxy, there is only one person of interest to me. Kill them all."

"Yes, Master."

* * *

With his mouth and nose covered by the scarf from his vest he'd folded and tied around his head, John waited impatiently for Carson to finish getting the samples he needed. His focus remained firmly planted on the floor. He had absolutely no desire to see the horror show in front of him again. It was bad enough that, with the nearly air-tight door open, he had to smell it. When he'd initially opened the door, John's stomach had nearly turned itself inside out at the putrid odor of twenty, maybe thirty, decomposing bodies left to rot.

"Alright, Colonel. I believe I've got what I need," Carson said as he hustled out of there, tucking his samples into his pack.

John pushed the heavy, metal door shut with all the force he could muster, only too happy to seal up the dead and return them to the darkness. He had a long, long, long shower in his future. He only wished he could scrub the image from his mind, as well.

"How long have they, uh...?" he ventured, pulling down his makeshift mask as they made time through the tunnels, getting back to the rest of their party.

Beckett, appearing just as relieved as he was to be putting a little distance between them and the tomb behind them, speculated, "If I was ta hazard a guess, taking into account the conditions here, I'd say two months, give or take. They all appear ta have perished at approximately the same time."

"Any idea of what Michael was up to?"

"I'll have a better idea of what was done ta those poor people in there as soon as we can get back ta Atlantis and I can get these samples analyzed."

"Has Rodney or Porter managed to dig up any of his research off the computer, yet?"

"It appears that before he left, Michael erased a great deal of what was in the files," Carson related, clearly disheartened. As Michael's former prisoner, no one knew better than he did the malignant nature of Michael's bitterness toward Wraith and human alike. The gentle-natured doctor was driven to put a stop to the atrocities committed at his hands and the hands of his followers.

"Well, it doesn't exactly look like whatever he was up to was a screaming success. He probably erased it and started over," John proposed.

"Colonel, in laboratory work ya never destroy test results," Dr. Beckett expressed his doubts. "Even in failure, there are lessons ta be learned."

"Then, whatever he's up to, he doesn't want anyone else finding out about it. Us, the Genii, the Wraith...anybody with even the remote capability of doing something about it."

"Well, according ta Rodney, nothing is ever truly erased. He's currently trying to hack into the mainframe and see if he can pick up a residual..." Carson fell into a stilted pause. He finally shrugged. "Och, who am I kidding? I can't recall exactly what he said, but in essence, it was very brusque, very pompous, and very..."

"...Rodney?" John proposed.

Carson snorted. "I was going ta go with 'technical', but that works just as well. He's trying ta get the files back. Although, why he couldn't just say so is beyond me."

"McKay has this phobia that if he starts using the little words, his IQ will drop," John said, his expression unreadable.

"Aye," Beckett chuckled. "Dr. Porter, on the other hand, seems to be a little more..."

"...user friendly?" John teased.

Carson mouth twisted. "Again, Colonel, not the phrase I would have chosen, but she is rather lovely, isn't she?"

"I hadn't really noticed," John claimed. "She seems nice enough. Maybe once we get home, you and Dr. Porter..."

"Alison..." Carson murmured, adopting the look of a lovesick puppy.

"You and _Alison_ could..."

"You think she might?"

John shrugged. "Never know until you ask. I _would_ downplay the dead body talk, if I were you," he qualified.

"Oh, aye," Carson wholeheartedly agreed. "That's a bit of a mood-killer if there ever was one."

"You can say that again."

John could hear voices from up ahead echoing toward them and got back to the business at hand. "If they manage to salvage anything from the database, you let me know. I'm gonna take Ronon and Teldy to check out that village. Shouldn't take too long, but the second we get back, we're outta here."

"I can't say I fancy the idea of sticking around much either," Carson agreed.

* * *

High above the bunker, overlooking the village and the miles of dense vegetation beyond, the Stargate burst to life. A cadre of Michael's more fortunate victims stepped through, intent on completing the task their master had set forth. With single-minded purpose, they descended the treacherous slopes, hearing the call to kill playing over and over in their heads. Their genetically enhanced speed and agility allowed them to eat up the distance between them and their prey with stunning ease. They would use the additional strength they had been bestowed to crush those who would stand in the way of Michael's great plans. They would not be stopped.

* * *

Sheppard, Teldy, and Ronon crossed through the forest at a brisk pace, spurred on by an unspoken, inappreciable need to get what they needed and leave. Their arrival only took it into overdrive.

The village was deserted. There weren't the usual noises of people going about their day—wagons rolling through the dirt streets, while small animals got underfoot. No kids at play while their parents worked and cooked and cleaned. There was only an abominable absence of sound.

The trio spread out around the town square, never leaving sight of the others. Teldy raised her P-90, prepared to defend herself if necessary. Ronon presented a nearly identical picture, but instead of having the sleek, killing machine of the U.S. Military, he carried his beloved and much coveted blaster. It was, perhaps, not as polished as the sub-machine gun, but no less deadly when in the right hands and on the right setting. John reached for a LSD from where it was tucked in his vest, coming to a stop next to the well in the center of the square. The small screen lit up and displayed the layout of the immediate area.

"Getting anything?" the Major asked.

Sheppard gave the device one last wave in every direction before answering, "Negative. There's no one." His eyes briefly fell on the dark chasm of the well before adding, "How much do you want to bet that we already found them?"

"I'll think I'll pass on that one, sir," Ann replied. "It's probably a pretty good bet."

Ronon pointed out, "Some of them, anyway."

"Anybody Michael couldn't get his mitts on probably headed for the hills," John agreed. He bent over and snatched up a rock laying at his feet. He unceremoniously chucked into the well and waited as Ronon and Teldy fell back to his position. A long moment later, there was the unmistakeable clack of rock against rock.

"Dry," Ronon grumbled.

"Any takers on whether there's a tunnel running at the bottom of that?" John proposed. He looked around and made a wry face. "Thought not."

John pulled his P-90 and using the light on his scope, tried to see into the black abyss. There wasn't the usual debris of mud and half-grown plants you'd expect to see at the base of a dried up old well. _Concrete._

"It'd be a handy place to come up and snatch some poor, unsuspecting townsperson," Ann commented, shaking her head at the tragedy that had gone on here. To these simple people who never asked for any of this. "God knows how many entrances to those tunnels there are. For all we know, he's got them running to other villages, too."

"Well, I for one, have had enough of this," John said in a low voice. Michael was a mistake, an experiment gone wrong. One he'd had a small part in creating. Every death, every life ruined at Michael's hands, was another failure on his part and too many times, he'd managed to slink away only to cause more damage. With his jaw steeled, John promised himself that the next time they met, it would be the last. "Let's gather the troops and get the hell out of here."

* * *

He was supposed to be trying to rest. Taking it easy. Maybe, catching up a few months worth sleepless nights. But instead, Mason was awake, trying to figure out if and how he worked now.

Before, it was an act; the jokes, the smiles. He really couldn't have cared less what he looked like, and the heartache and confusion he felt toward Jennifer hadn't mattered in the slightest. Things were missing. Basic, fundamental things. The pain was gone, but that wasn't where it ended. He could hear air moving in and out, but the continual rise and fall and that soothing feeling of the initial rush of air into his lungs was absent. If he listened hard, he could still hear the ever present drumming of his heart. But the sensation in his chest was gone, leaving him bereft of something that had been there since he was born. Something he didn't realize he would miss and hadn't counted on how wrong he would feel without it. He'd needed Jennifer, then, to help him ward off the initial panic and she'd been there. As a doctor, yeah, but more importantly, as his friend.

After Jennifer had told him that 765 had wrapped itself around his spinal cord, the first thing he'd done was wiggle his toes and stretch his legs under the blanket. He'd heaved a sigh of relief and Jennifer, having not noticed his movement, assumed he was still tired. She made an excuse of having a lot of paperwork waiting for her in her office and left him to himself in the hopes he would rest. He was partially grateful. He didn't want her to feel unwelcome, but he did want some time alone with his body and with his thoughts. Mason had to figure out who he was now, if this had changed him in some way. And to remind himself not to get too comfortable with the new order. There were still too many unanswered questions and no one knew how long or _if_ this would last.

He'd spent a while flexing his hands. He tensed the muscles under the bandages with, of course, no response if he had relied solely on feeling, but Mason had physically looked down and he saw the movement. He was entertaining the idea of briefly removing the sling on his right arm, whose primary purpose was to keep him from accidentally doing damage to his shoulder that they'd actually _had_ to operate on, when he felt like he was being watched.

Mason was already prepared to defend himself to Jennifer, but swallowed those words when he saw who it was.

"Hey, Teyla. How long have you been there?"

She was holding a tray full of food from the mess hall and was wearing a tentative smile. She was probably concerned that she'd interrupted something private. "Only a few moments. It is good to see you are awake."

"That for me?" he turned on a little charm to reassure her that he was glad to see her. "You shouldn't have."

"I brought it for Jennifer. She was insistent that I eat and it seemed only fair that I be equally as insistent."

"Just as well. I'm not a big fan of meatloaf," he said, eying the tray. It was only then he realized that his stomach was still working and he was never happier to know that he was _starving_. "Although..., I'm not above a little jello," he hinted. It hadn't escaped his notice that there were two jello cups on the tray, instead of the typical one. Teyla had probably brought the extra for herself. Everybody knew about her cravings for the stuff since she'd gotten pregnant. "What do you think my chances are of snagging one of those?"

She gazed down at the blue dessert and stated slyly, "Unless you are willing to fight for it, I would have to say...slim."

He jogged his bound right arm in her direction and grinned. "I'll arm wrestle you for it."

Teyla laughed.

"Come on. Bringing jello into an infirmary is like bringing a t-bone into a kennel," he entreated her.

"Perhaps, Dr. Keller wouldn't mind sharing hers with you," Teyla offered as a compromise.

"I won't tell, if you won't."

Smiling in approval, Teyla set the meal down on his sliding tray table. She took the jello cup and settled it into his mostly immobile right hand and offer a spoon to his left.

"Let me take this to Jennifer," Teyla indicated the remainder of the food with the notable exception of _her_ jello cup which she set off to the side. "I will return momentarily."

"Teyla," he stopped her before she could go. He started pensively, "Jennifer..., she told me I managed to pretty much scare the crap out of everybody."

"Indeed," she confirmed. He could tell he had.

"I'm sorry, Teyla. I really am. I was...really hoping things wouldn't go that way."

She sighed. "You have only to tell me that it was worth the measures and there is nothing more for us to say."

She wanted to him to tell her that the device had worked, that the burden he'd carried for the last two years of his life was nothing more than a distant memory. Well, he couldn't say that, because he didn't know that for himself, yet. For now, all he could offer her was a smile and tell her that he wasn't in pain anymore.

Unexpectedly, she leaned in and formally lowered her head toward him. Mason responded in kind, touching his forehead to hers.

"I am very happy for you, my friend," she said softly.

"Thanks, Teyla" he whispered.

* * *

"Oh, crap..." Rodney let out.

A chill ran up Carson's spine.

"What did you do, McKay?" Dusty pounced on him.

He took a second to swallow and try to regain some moisture in his mouth. Rodney gulped, "I'm getting multiple life signs closing in on our position."

"Well, the Colonel, Maj. Teldy, and Ronon are on their way back," Vega offered in explanation.

McKay glared at her. She just wasn't getting the point. "Yes, that _would_ explain three of them, but what about the other...say...TWENTY?! Unless you've heard any communiques from Atlantis that I didn't, we have a _really_ big problem!"

"How the hell did they find out we were here?" Vega blasted him right back.

"I'm working on it!" Rodney shouted, digging through the computer data.

Sgt. Mehra and Capt. Vega exchanged a glance and without hesitation, Dusty tucked her P-90 into her shoulder and marched to cover the entrance.

"Weapons at the ready, Doc," Mehra ordered as she went, nonchalantly chewing her gum.

Watching Alison reach for her gun, Carson apprehensively unbuckled his required sidearm from its holster. Even if he'd had the desire, he hadn't had cause to shoot a gun in... a bloody long time.

"Oh, crap!" Rodney exclaimed again.

Beckett startled, his gun hand shaking. "Would ya stop doing that, Rodney? I could'a shot ya!"

"They're in the tunnel system and there are more closing in on Sheppard and the others! In about two minutes, we're gonna be up to our eyeballs in bad guys!"

Mehra started barking orders. "McKay! Get out your gun and come with me! Vega, Porter, Beckett, you hold our six!" As she took to her radio warning the rest of their party of the danger, Rodney rushed to the entrance and brought up his weapon.

Dusty pointed out to the nervous scientist, "You see our people coming, don't...shoot...them."

Rodney retorted, "I've been running with Sheppard for years. I survived the siege! I think I can handle..."

Mehra reached over and turned the safety off on his P-90. "Shut up, McKay."

* * *

_"Col. Sheppard, we've got enemy incoming—fast. They're advancing on your position, so keep your eyes peeled,"_ Mehra's matter-of-fact report came and reverberated through John's ears. He knew Dusty fairly well. She had 'take no prisoners' attitude he'd learned to appreciate, was tough as nails, and about as warm and fuzzy as a tarantula. But, he could still hear the shades of something hidden in her voice, reminding him that she was still very human and caught in the eye of a storm. _"They're in the tunnels, too, sir. We're surrounded."_

In seconds, they heard the echoes of P-90 fire shatter the eerie stillness that seemed to dwell over the entire planet. John, Ronon, and Teldy tore through the underbrush at a dead run, charging up and down the hills separating them from their teams. Ronon led the way, streaking through the woods like he'd done this his whole life. He sliced through the terrain with a speed and lightness of foot that was uncanny for someone his size, his tied back dreads flapping behind in his wake. John could think of no one else he'd rather have at his side, right now.

_"There's too many of them! The bastards won't die!" _Mehra shouted through the comms. The racket of weapons fire around her bled into her signal. _"We have to fall back! Move it, McKay! Go, go, go!"_

John's heart thundered in his ears as he pushed himself faster and faster, needing to reach the five people he'd left in those tunnels and do everything in his power to keep them from becoming Michael's next victims.

_ "Carson!"_ McKay's voice broke through the open channel.

"Hang in there, Dusty! We're nearly there!" Ann responded to John's right.

Spurred on like someone had cracked a whip, Teldy found a new gear and sped on, closing distance on the Satedan whirlwind. John, too, redoubled his stride. They had to get there.

Shadows moving in the corner of John's eyes caused to jerk his head to the side.

"DOWN!" he heard Ronon bellow.

John swung his weapon around, while up ahead Ronon dove, narrowly avoiding weapons fire from the cat-eyed hybrids stalking them. In one smooth, synchronous motion before hitting the ground, Ronon's blaster went off and hit it's mark.

But, the hybrid didn't go down.

John peppered the formerly human monster closing in on his best friend with bullets. Maj. Teldy directed her fire at the numbers emerging around them, cutting them off from the tunnel entrance that was so close.

From the direction of the bunker, an explosion rocked the ground around them.

* * *

"Keep going!" Mehra yelled as smoke filled the passageways. She'd managed to partially collapse the tunnel between them and the hybrids with some of her C-4. Granted a momentary reprieve from the onslaught as the fire and smoke cleared, she pushed her people further underground. She could hear footsteps and debris being chucked to the side as they went. They weren't alone and every path they tried was met with a new attack. Dusty had the unsettling feeling they were being herded like cattle to the slaughter.

"No, no, no," Rodney rattled off, seeing where they were being pushed. Up ahead were the large chambers Sheppard had investigated earlier. The ones with...

"There are bodies in there!" McKay protested.

With her spidey sense running like mad, Mehra lifted her gun toward the passage behind them. Striding backwards, she ran through the layout in her head for the thousandth time.

"We don't exactly have a lot of options here, McKay! We could try and seal ourselves up and wait for backup."

"We can't go in there," Dr. Beckett said, blooding dripping from a nasty cut on his forehead.

Dusty's steely gaze took them both apart. With a nod to the enclosed space around them, "If we stay here, we'll die."

Porter, her one remaining teammate, spoke up, breathless but resolute. "Dusty, we're gonna die anyway."

Dr. McKay screwed up his jaw. With his P-90 already out of ammo, he pulled out his Beretta. "If that's where they take the dead, there's no way I'm going in there willingly."

Dusty heard herself laugh. "They're gonna have to drag your Canadian ass in there, huh? Who would've guessed Dr. Rodney McKay actually owns a set?"

"What?"

"Nothing," she shook her head as her thoughts turned mirthless. She had to give Katie a little more credit. She'd seen something in the scientist that Dusty had missed. It may have been buried deeper than the Mariana Trench, but it was there. Next poker night. Next time.

She exhaled, pushed the loose strands of her jet black hair behind her ears, and set herself down for the task at hand. If she wasn't gonna make it out of here, she sure as hell was gonna take as many of those hybrids as she could with her. As the others were reloading, she announced, "Aim for right between the eyes. These guys may not be able to feel pain, but a bullet to the head'll put their lights out pretty quick."

After getting a few nods of assent, she took one of her grenades and walk back toward the passage where they'd come from. Yanking the pin with her teeth, she threw it straight into the lion's den.

Showing no emotion whatsoever, she spit the pin to the ground and shouted, "Fire in the hole!"

* * *

In the heat of battle, certain things are lost. You can no longer see anything but the thing

trying to kill you. He'd lost track of Teldy during the fight. Ronon, too, but he could hear the Satedan's craven war cries not far away, though the sound of his blaster was nonexistent. As victims of Michael's experiments, the hybrids could be taken to Atlantis and returned to their former state. They'd been able to fix Halling, after all. They could help these people, too. But, as John's sidearm tore another hole into the man attacking him—a man appearing close to John's age, maybe with a family of his own out there somewhere—any moral or ethical debate became irrelevant. It was kill or be killed and John had too much to live for. He pulled the trigger three more times, his thoughts focused on one thing alone.

_ Teyla._

* * *

"I spoke with Halling yesterday. I suppose it comes as no surprise that Setisse was inquiring after you," Teyla said. "She has been most insistent, apparently."

"She's a good kid," Mason replied.

"She will be happy to hear that you are feeling better," Teyla assured him before taking another bite of the jello she so craved. She had already had two before leaving the mess hall, but they weren't enough sate her baseless need.

"Is she okay? After the way I left, I wasn't sure..."

Teyla smiled. "Children are amazing creatures. Capable of processing so much more than we expect. According to Helia, she was quite upset for several days, but since then, she has..."

Teyla stopped short. The lighthearted atmosphere drained away and did, she suspected, the color in her face.

"Teyla?" Mason broke in. He set his jello cup aside, watching her warily.

The foreboding sense of warning from earlier returned with a vengeance and she was finding it hard to breathe.

She heard the rustling of sheets and felt Mason's strong hand clamp down on her arm. "Teyla, are you okay? What is it?"

Gasping for air, she thought she heard him. _John!_

"Jennifer!" Mason hollered over her toward Dr. Keller's office. Refusing to let go with his one good arm, the other fought for the freedom to help, too.

Jennifer ran to them and knelt down next to where Teyla sat. "Mason, just sit back and if you start tearing those sutures, so help me...! Teyla, what's wrong?"

Teyla snapped out of whatever force it was that held her and immediately activated her radio. "Mr. Woolsey! This is Teyla!"

_"Yes? What can I do for you?"_

"Mr. Woolsey, I realize that this may sound strange, but I need you to contact Col. Sheppard immediately!" she urged him.

_"Has something happened? Is your baby...?"_

"My child is fine," Teyla cut him off. "But, if I am right, Col. Sheppard and the others are in great peril."

_"I don't understand."_

Desperation took root in her. "Mr. Woolsey, please!" she begged. "Please, just dial the Stargate! I have reason to believe they are all in mortal danger! They need our help!"

"Mr. Woolsey," Jennifer broke in with a look on her face like she was starting to understand something. "I think you should listen to Teyla."

Teyla didn't know if Jennifer was backing her because she believed her or if she was simply trying to keep her from growing too frantic in her condition, but Teyla didn't care about her motives. She only cared about reaching John.

_ "Very well."_

* * *

The perforated hybrid, instead of crumpling from his injuries like any normal human, only beset him further. It tackled John, pinning his arm to the ground and started slamming his gun hand downward. Sheppard tried to hang on as his face was kissing the dirt beneath, but his hand couldn't maintain his grip on his gun and it flew. Without missing a beat, John threw his elbow back, twisted his torso, and nailed the hybrid in the head. Gathering his body under him, he unsheathed his knife and sank it into the hybrid's chest. In a last bid before it died, it swung it's leg and swept John's legs out from underneath him, where a new taker was already able and willing to take his place.

John found himself staring up at the slitted eyes of a woman, as strong as any man he'd ever known, choking the life out him. Her nails dug into the sides of his neck. Her knees trapped his arms in place, preventing him from striking out at her.

"Rest assured, you have fought well. Your death will be an honorable one," she mewed in a voice that smacked of seduction. Apparently, no one had told her he wasn't into that sort of thing.

His lungs screamed as he gasped for air.

_"Col. Sheppard, Atlantis base here. Colonel, what is your status?"_

A thick tree branch found the back the woman's head, hitting her with deadly force. As she was knocked to the side, Ronon's tattooed arms came into John's view. Then came the rest of him.

Covered in blood spatters, the warrior swiftly drew his knife and slit the woman's throat.

_"Colonel Sheppard!" _Mr. Woolsey repeated, growing anxious.

"I've...been...better..." he choked out. A hacking cough escaped before he could go on. "We need reinforcements here, asap. We are under attack. I repeat, we are under attack."

Ronon had apparently gotten his hands on his blaster, because his report was interrupted by a heavy barrage of stunner fire. John went after the weapon he'd lost moments ago.

"Ronon, Teldy, and I are cut off from the rest of our team. We have no idea what condition they're in."

_"Jumpers are already standing by, Colonel. Sending them through immediately."_

A hybrid leaped toward him. He brought his gun up in time and put it down in one shot. A trickle of blood flowed from the hole in it's forehead.

"Sheppard!" Ronon roared.

John spun. Ronon was crouched down next to the ground. The colonel hadn't noticed a second ago, but there was blood streaming down from Ronon's thigh where his leathers had been sliced open. He was about to ask if he was alright, when he saw what he was kneeling over. Maj. Teldy was down.

John rushed over to get a closer look.

"Damn it!" he growled, seeing the bruising all over her face, the blood coming out of her ears. Blood was pooling on her stomach. "Hurry it up!" he shouted into his comm link, scrambling through his vest for a pressure bandage. "We've got wounded!"

Ronon opened up his blaster on another hybrid.

_"Colonel, this Maj. Lorne. We are through the Gate. We've got a fix on your transmitter signals. Drones are ready to fire."_

"Ronon, get down!" he yelled. John threw himself protectively over Ann as he shouted into the radio, "Fire!"

The forest around them erupted.

* * *

Of the eight people on that planet, Maj. Teldy was the first to return home. She was picked up and whisked away to surgery, taking Dr. Keller and what seemed like half of the infirmary staff along with her. She waited in the infirmary with Mason, hoping to get some news soon. From Jennifer on Ann's condition, from Mr. Woolsey about John and the others. When they would be coming home.

John and Ronon had remained behind after sending the first Jumper back with Maj. Teldy. With reinforcements, they'd gone after the hybrids that had breached the tunnel system. Teyla had heard that they had been successful, but the tunnel leading to Rodney, Mehra, and the others, had collapsed. They were currently trying to dig them out.

Mason offered her companionship on their watch and she took what little solace she could from it, but she needed John. He had said that she didn't need to strong for him, that she could let him be her shelter. She had all but dismissed it at the time, but now... Being in John's arms at home, knowing he was safe and sound, and letting him help to purge the pain and fraught emotions of the day seemed like the best idea in the world. But until that time, she needed to breathe and hang onto her control.

It was a few more hours before they were all home.

Almost all of them.

Teyla, temporarily, quit her seemingly neverending vigil in the infirmary to meet them in the Jumper Bay. Dr. Porter was first out with Carson at her heels. The gash on Carson's head aside, they were both filthy and their clothes were dotted with blood, but they appeared otherwise fine. Rodney was acting as a human crutch, aiding Ronon as he limped heavily off, because the stubborn Satedan refused to submit to the indignity of a wheelchair. The scientist put up an obligatory argument against it, but Teyla could see that his heart wasn't in it.

Dusty was off next. Teyla smiled in relief and tried to speak to her, but Sgt. Mehra was either incapable of speaking or just unwilling. Most likely a combination of the two. She slid silently across the hangar. Her head hung lower than normal without her usual fire and brash demeanor to bolster it up. Teyla saw a set of chains dangling from her hand and her throat tightened.

"I have to wait for the official reports, of course, but I think I'm gonna be putting Mehra, there, in for a commendation," John said from behind her. Teyla twirled and threw her arms around him. He hugged her tightly to him and spoke into her neck. "McKay says that she saved their bacon. I don't think he'd ever admit to it if you asked, but he was...impressed." He paused, long and hard. John picked up his head and looked her in the eyes. "Teyla, Vega didn't make it."

A tear sprang loose and rolled down her cheek. "I should have acted sooner," she said remorsefully.

"Teyla, you didn't know," he firmly asserted. "You are the only reason _any_ of us are still here. You and the kiddo. This was not your fault. Don't forget that." He straightened up and brought his thumb around to wipe away the water from around her eyes. John tossed a glance back to where Dusty had disappeared. "How's... How's Teldy doing?"

"I have not heard anything."

"Colonel, are you ready?" Maj. Lorne cut in reluctantly from the open hatch of the jumper.

Teyla glanced over John's shoulder. "What is going on, John?"

"Prisoner transfer," he said stoically. "Go ahead and head back to the infirmary. I'll meet you there soon."

At this point, she didn't feel like she wanted to leave John's side ever again, but she wasn't going to argue with him especially given what he'd just been through. He was still covered in the dirt, sweat, and blood of the battlefield and his duties were not done yet. Before she left, she saw the unconscious body of a stunned hybrid being carried out.

* * *

A few of the scrub nurses gave him a disapproving stare as they exited the operating room. Ronon knew he wasn't supposed to be there and he felt weird, too. He'd traded in his torn and bloody leathers for hospital scrubs that didn't quite fit right. But, it was his only real option until he could get another set of clothes and at least they hid the bandages underneath. Through the window, he could see Jennifer stripping off her gloves and surgical gown, and tossing them in the trash. Even from there and beyond the mask, he could see the sadness in her eyes.

She untied the covering over her mouth and let it hang from her neck as she walked out.

When she saw him, she looked at him with an unsustainable sternness. "Ronon, you should be in a bed. Did Dr. Cole...?"

"Cleaned up, stitched up. She's fixing up Beckett now," he placated her.

She nodded, more emphatically than was necessary and pointed toward the main infirmary where everyone else waited. "I have to, um...I have to tell them."

He could see her choking up.

"This is stupid," she managed over the frog in her throat. "I didn't expect this. You'd think I would've learned to by now, but I didn't..." A single, shining drop of water swiftly fell from her eye and she was equally as quick to wipe it away.

"Our lives here...are so screwed up, you know that?" Without holding back for him to answer, she went on through a rapidly thickening blanket of tears, "How is it we can get away with these..._insane..._stunts that, it seems like, in any other setting wouldn't stand a chance of succeeding? And then,...we send people out on a mission—a simple, intelligence gathering mission—and...they don't come back? It doesn't make any sense!"

Ronon grabbed her hand and pulled her into his massive embrace. Jennifer leaned in and wept against him.

"I know."


	19. Casualties

Author's Notes: There's a slight nod to **Search and Rescue** and tiny, tiny bit from **Vegas **in here. And feeling the need to share my mood music for this chapter - "Rain" by Patty Griffin, "Forever" by Breaking Benjamin. Take it as you will. Again (turning into a broken record here), sorry for the wait! But when these chapters turn out so long, they take longer to write. Sad, but true. :( I appreciate everyone's patience and I hope you'll all continue to hang in there with me!

* * *

**Chapter 19 - Casualties**

xo

John tucked his light blue dress shirt in and closed the buttons on the sleeves, then repeated the process by fastening his top collar button. He slid his tie into place under his collar and began looping it into a knot around his neck. It felt like a noose.

He couldn't think of a single time in his lengthy career when wearing his dress uniform had been a pleasant experience. As an officer, he'd attended dozens of formal parties for the benefit of his superiors and visiting dignitaries. Overall, they were stuffy occasions where people dined on caviar, drank wine, and pretended to be more intelligent and more important than they actually were.

Then, there were the disciplinary hearings. Some, where he was acting as a witness and one, after Afghanistan, in which he was the defendant. John pulled his tie tight. That had been one of the last times he'd spoken to his dad. Patrick Sheppard had gotten wind that he was in trouble and sailed in with his high-priced civilian attorneys, determined to pull his butt out of the fire. John had sent him packing. He hadn't wanted to listen to yet another diatribe on how the Air Force had been a colossal mistake and John didn't want to owe him anything. And to John, it hadn't mattered that they'd long ago fallen into a pattern of cold distance. He still hadn't been able bear the idea of his father thinking that he was a screw-up. A disappointment.

Teyla wandered over and absently asked him to do the clasp at the back of her dress. With her stomach having grown so big, she couldn't get the proper reach to do it herself. As he took his time with it, gently closing the material over Teyla's curves, he considered the possibility that he'd been too hard on his dad. Soon enough, he would be a father himself. He would have a tiny person of his own to look after and protect. He could imagine, if it were _his _child—his daughter—in the precarious position he'd been in, he would do the same thing.

"There you go," he muttered to Teyla.

It was too late. It was too late for John and Patrick to rectify their past or in the very least, for John to offer him a stilted, but sincere apology.

She offered him a weak smile, reflective of the somber mood prevalent both in their quarters and all over the city. John went to the closet he shared with the love of his life. He reached in and pulled his stiff, blue coat off the hanger. It weighed heavily on him. Today, more so than most occasions. Loaded with medals denoting his rank, citations for his long term of service, and decorations for valor, they grew heavier every time he had to wear them to a funeral.

Teyla finished twisting and pinning the forward pieces of her hair so they flowed along the side of her head and fell gracefully down the back. John set his coat on the bed. He walked up behind Teyla and peered over her shoulder in the mirror's reflection. Her face, adorned only in simple make-up, was blank. Her emotions were locked safely behind a carefully constructed wall; a stark contrast to the picture last night.

He'd woken in the middle of the night to the sound of her crying. He'd pushed her hair away from her face and held her close for what seemed like hours, feeling her torrential heartache and guilt in keen bursts that rocked him to his core. He whispered to her over and over that it would be okay, along with a dozen other trite remarks that he knew wouldn't help. He, regrettably, knew from experience, you don't lose two friends in the space of a few hours without taking it hard.

For years, she'd been a pillar of strength, even in the wake of terrible losses. Peter Grodin, Dr. Hewston, Kate Heightmeyer. Her parents, Charin, Kanaan, and so many more of her people. Lt. Ford. Carson Beckett. Elizabeth. The only time John had ever really seen Teyla give her anguish a voice was in mourning for the loss of a baby she would never know. Aside from that, she had always held her head up, a stern warden for her emotions. But, it finally dawned on him—how many nights had she spent on her own in her quarters, grieving for her lost friends and family, only letting her guard down in solitude? How many times when he should have been there with her? When he'd almost been permanently torn away from her, had she shed tears for him? He'd bundled them both up under the soft sheets of their bed. He wordlessly vowed to her that she would never be alone. Her tears were a load he would gladly carry for her if he could. And after a while, those same tears that had soaked into his t-shirt, eventually abated and dried away.

In front of him, Teyla pushed her flowing hair to the side to make room for the necklace she held in her hands. Of Athosian make, it was a series of small, white beads arranged in a geometrical pattern, set on a string of leather.

"Let me get that for you," John said quietly.

She delicately placed the keepsake in his hands and lifted her hair. John brought it around the soft curve of her neck and brushing his fingers lightly against her skin, he tied the two ends of leather together.

"This is nice," he commented, his voice low.

"It was a gift. From Charin," she spoke, her composure wavered slightly before she replaced it with a faraway smile. "She gave it to me when I made the decision to live among your people. She said that, though I would see wondrous new things and make many new friends, I would always have those that came before."

John muttered, "...got it..." As Teyla allowed her hair to fall back into place, his hands came to rest on her shoulders.

Through the mirror, she ensnared him within the dark pools of her eyes. "There have been so many, John. So many are gone, now."Her gaze darted down to the counter and her body tensed. "Good people who deserved better."

John's expression darkened. He offered the only solace he could. The promise of justice. "We'll get him, Teyla. We'll make him pay for Vega. For Teldy. For your people and all the others."

Teyla turned so they were face to face. Her hand stroked his cheek. "I have faith in you, John. Michael will answer for his crimes," she affirmed. "But, for now..."

"...it's time to go."

"Yes," she said, her lips drooping sadly.

John reached back and grabbed his coat. He slid his arms in and shrugged it into place. He pulled the sides in and Teyla took over the job of buttoning it up, her nimble fingers taking their time. As she finished, he caught her hands before she could pull them away. He leaned his forehead onto hers. With others, it was an Athosian symbol of friendship. Between them, it was an act that had risen beyond that to become something more intimate, passionate, and vulnerable.

"I love you, Teyla."

"I love you, too."

Holding tight to one of her hands, John led her out and they started their journey toward the Gateroom.

* * *

"Easy, now," Carson reminded him, as Mason lifted his right arm from the sling.

Halfway ready to go, the remainder of Capshaw's dress uniform was laid out on his bed. It was miserable quirk of timing that the memorial service coincided with his release from the infirmary.

Mason glanced quickly downward while Carson went to retrieve his long-sleeve shirt. The empty sling still hung around by the strap, loosely around his neck. He batted it to the side and surveyed his bare chest. His bandages had been removed only a short while ago, so he was getting his inaugural look at the changes in his body. Jennifer's description had been fairly accurate. He did look like he'd gotten a new tattoo. The tendrils of 765 cut across him like a ribbon of fire, with black matte flames. The skin around it was still slightly red, giving it an added layer of color he hadn't expected. The raw surgical scar on his shoulder was the part of the whole thing that made the procedure he'd had look like anything resembling normal.

"The redness will fade in time," Dr. Beckett interrupted his train of thought and held up the shirt behind him.

"You know, you don't have to do this. I could've managed on my own," Mason grumbled, his patience with being coddled wearing thin. Especially today. Things shouldn't have happened that way.

"Come on. Let's have it," Carson rebuffed his protest.

The marine stretched out his right arm and put it into the sleeve.

"Slowly...slowly," Carson eased him along.

"You don't have to mother hen me so much, either. It doesn't hurt."

"Which is precisely why ya need ta be careful, Sergeant," Dr. Beckett chided him, bringing the shirt up over his shoulders so Mason could start buttoning it up. "Ya aren't hurting and ya _should_ be. Your shoulder isn't ready for a lot of movement, just yet, and personally, I'd prefer it if you'd allow it ta heal properly. It will take time ta get accustomed ta..."

Mason scowled. "I know. I know. Take it slow. But, seriously, I can get it from here."

Beckett hesitated before he reluctantly proffered, "No one would blame ya if ya decided not ta go, Sergeant. Ya still need ta rest."

Mason tensed up, his jaw locking squarely into place. He put it to Carson in no uncertain terms, "I've rested long enough. I'm going."  
He immediately felt guilty for having snapped at him. Beckett, after all, had actually _been there_ when Vega and Teldy were killed. It wasn't his fault Mason had been injured two years ago. And it wasn't the doctor's fault that he'd been sidelined when Michael had launched a deadly assault.

Carson viewed him with an expectant and frustratingly patient look.

Mason cleared his throat and said quietly, "I saved Vega's life once. Did you know that?"

Beckett slowly shook his head. "Were ya close?"

"We saw each other around. We talked a few times. She was pretty cool. She, uh, has a big family back home. Four brothers and a sister, I think." His face strained, he got out, "I guess one of those damned hybrids had her number, after all."

"Ya couldn'a saved her, lad. Ya being there wouldn't have made a bit o' difference," Carson stated with surety.

"You don't know that."

"I do, son. I do."

* * *

Jennifer stared into her closet for the hundredth time, going over the inventory inside and still coming up empty. She had done everything else. Hair, make-up... She had put on a black pencil skirt and heels, but she was no closer to making a decision about a shirt. She stood there in her bra debating the options over and over in her head.

_Black. It's a funeral. That's the obvious choice, isn't it? But, it's too depressing and most of the people there will be in their dress blues. Maybe, I should change. I could wear my uniform. No. I __was wearing one when... _Jennifer stiffened and closed her eyes. _You have to_ s_top it. Your eyes are __already puffy enough and you'll be a sniffling mess. Okay... _She collected herself and started again. _Maybe white. Too bright. A print? Why do they all have to be so freaking cheerful?! Just color, then. But, which one? _Her eyes stopped on a dark maroon top and the image of blood flashed to the surface. _Definitely not red. _

She had to make a choice. He would be here soon. Jennifer bit her lip and reached in, letting her arm make the decision, because clearly her mind wasn't up for the task.

The chosen garment turned out to be a navy, chiffon blouse that had gotten pushed to the side during the 'too fancy versus not fancy enough' argument. But, Ann had liked it and it worked with the small hoop earrings she was wearing, a Christmas gift from Alicia. Jennifer sighed and shoved away another wave of emotion. Somehow, she'd managed to find just the right outfit. And it would even blend in pretty well with the sea of blue that would be there.

The blouse was just shimmying over her body and into place when her doorbell buzzed. She waved her hand over the autolock. Behind it, Ronon stood tall and straight. In a simple gray shirt and his usual leather pants, he looked perfect. Rugged. Respectful. Thoroughly Satedan. It was him.

"Hey."

"Hi," she answered.

"Are ready to go or...do you need another minute?" he asked.

Jennifer turned to the mirror behind her to quickly take stock, then met his concerned dark brown eyes in the reflection. "I think I'm about as ready as I'll ever be."

He paused and asked, "You sure?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

* * *

Teyla stood throughout the memorial service in relative peace. The sorrow she felt at the loss of her friends had not subsided completely. Less than a week ago, Ann Teldy had been in her home playing cards, trying to find a match for Dr. Keller, and confessing that she'd never known true love. And Alicia... She had a surprisingly wicked sense of humor and had ambitions of one day being the commander of one of the great Earth ships like the Daedalus or the Apollo. Every time a person had been snatched from her life too soon, there was always a gaping hole left behind. Teyla knew that in time, probably too soon and perhaps wrongly so, the dark chasm in her heart would heal and life would return to normal, but for now, at least, the storm had passed and she was numb. She was able to face saying goodbye to them the way she had been raised, with quiet solemnity and dignity.

Teyla watched on, with Dr. Beckett nearby. Rodney, too, with Katie's arm laced through his. Mason took in the proceedings with his dress coat slung over the outside of his shoulders, leaving his arm free for his sling, his face a stone wall. And Jennifer listened in Ronon's company. Teyla's mouth had briefly crept upward when the two had arrived together and she saw that their fingers were loosely intertwined.

John had been asked to say a few words for his fallen comrades. His eyes mostly rested on the two coffins beside him, only occasionally rising to meet the gaze of the crowd. While his remarks weren't overly eloquent or florid, he held the attention of the room in the palm of his hand. He was someone who was reticent to reveal his true feelings to anyone. His feelings of responsibility, his devotion to his colleagues, his loyalty and friendship, and even love—he normally kept them all carefully hidden away behind a casual demeanor and clever wisecracks. Or so he thought. Teyla knew differently. They all did. Unlike many leaders who could callously brush aside loss of life, John viewed Teldy and Vega's deaths as a personal failure, as he did each time they all gathered for occasions such as these. Though his address was short, she and everyone present knew he meant every word.

Mr. Woolsey took over after John returned to her side. His speech was that of a gifted orator, stirring, moving and in the end, a fitting final sendoff for her friends. The coffins were escorted through the Stargate, to be taken home and returned to their families.

Moments after the Gate shut down, everyone broke their straight stances and most left, needing to return to their duties. Dusty and Amelia Banks, having watched the services from the back of the room, were among the first to make their exit. Teyla's face clouded over. She was not the only one taking the tragic circumstances to heart.

Katie had seen it as well and whispered, "I'll just go and..."

As the sweet-tempered botanist excused herself from Rodney and followed after them, Teyla felt John's hand run across her back, bringing her attention back to him. Around her, those that for both of them had become their family had noiselessly gravitated toward them and were all standing in a circle.

Reluctant to be the one to break the silence, but equally as uncomfortable standing there with the weight of circumstance pervading the room, John spoke up. "Woolsey..., he's called a full debrief for 15:00." Sheppard nodded in turn to each of the party expected to attend. "Beckett, McKay, Ronon, Dr. Keller...Teyla..."

One by one, each of them acknowledged the low-key summons, except for Mason, who was more impossible to read than ever. Teyla thought she saw his eyes dart toward Jennifer and Ronon, then drop again, but his expression was unwavering.

"I gave him a Reader's Digest version of what happened, but, uh, we need to go over what we know now, so we can close the books on this and concentrate our efforts on Michael."

The group nodded in agreement.

"So..." John finally added with a meaningful glance to his inner circle, "...take a few hours and..."

He trailed off at that point. They got the point.

Dr. McKay cleared his throat. "I think I'll go find Katie and get some lunch. Anyone care to join us?"

Rodney actually managed to bring a few smiles to the group at that. No matter the situation, as long as Rodney McKay was leading with his stomach, things couldn't be _that_ bad.

"Actually, I've got some things I need ta go over in the lab, if we're ta be in a briefing in a wee while," Carson declined the invitation.

"Jennifer? Ronon? Mason?"

Teyla focused on the pair.

"I'm really not that hungry," Jennifer offered in explanation and Ronon didn't seem any more inclined. He appeared intent on keeping Jennifer company, wherever she decided to spend her time.

"D'you wanna go?" Ronon asked her.

Jennifer answered with a slight smile. "Sure."

It was subtle, but Teyla noticed a small change in Mason's demeanor as they walked away together. He grew almost resolved. On what, though, she couldn't be sure, but she knew that it must be difficult for him seeing that Jennifer had made her choice.

"Some other time," Capshaw said stiffly. He made as polite an exit as he could manage and left.

"Funny, I sorta thought he might be in a better mood, now that he's not...you know...," Rodney observed.

John rolled his eyes. "We're at a funeral, Rodney."

"There's that, I suppose," Dr. McKay mumbled sheepishly. "What about you and Teyla? Lunch?"

John waffled and cleared his throat. "I, kind of, already made plans."

That drew Teyla's attention. "You have? What sort of plans?"

"You'll see."

* * *

Ronon and Jennifer wandered through the city, directionless and without purpose, although they avoided the darker hallways deeper in the bowels of Atlantis. For a while, they didn't say much and Ronon was okay with that. He was still getting used to having her hand in his. It was a small gesture, really, but it had become somewhat foreign to him. Her silky smooth skin yielded against his hardened touch willingly and no one was holding a weapon. It was a strange thing to have to adjust to, but it felt good. And satisfying to a part of him that had been missing, or neglected, for a long time.

They found themselves slowly migrating outside and into the bright, hot afternoon sun. As the light bounced off her blonde waves, Ronon looked at Jennifer and for the briefest of instants, he expected to see a different face looking back at him.

She smiled repentantly. "I'm sorry, Ronon. This isn't what I would've picked for a first date. But, for what it's worth, thank you. For being there."

"No problem."

They walked along the lower tiers leading toward the South Pier. The wind took hold and the sweet doctor's long locks blew freely. She tucked the close strands behind her ears to get them out of her eyes.

"I hate funerals," she said absently, then peered up at him. "I know that's a ridiculous thing to say. Nobody likes funerals. You have someone in your life and then, poof, they're gone. But, I really, _really_ hate them." She was talking to him, but her tone was lost in another place and time. "Nobody knows what to do. Nobody knows what to say, because nothing can make it better. So, it's...quiet. Then, after a little while, it's _too_ quiet. It just makes me want to scream."

"So scream."

She let go of a meek smile and shook her head. "I couldn't."

Ronon's mouth curved sideways. "Why not?"

"It wouldn't be appropriate? I don't know. I guess I just can't see myself actually doing it. Funerals are supposed to be that way. Awkward. Sad. Mostly sad."

"On Sateda, after the funeral rites, there would be a three day celebration. To pay homage to those that had died with honor."

"What was that like?" she asked.

A small, reminiscent grin appeared on his bearded face. "Dancing. A lot of drinking, usually. To spill blood upon blood would have been an insult to the families, so fighting was strictly forbidden. Mostly, there were a lot of stories. Laughing."

"Sounds like fun."

"Yeah." His gaze shifted to the skyline as memories bombarded him. All the good times and the bad. The people he loved and the all the things that never were. They had all vanished. "Your people do things differently, though."

"Maybe," she answered thoughtfully. Her eyes brightened. "We might not be as different as you think. A lot of people, after they lose someone they care about, want to feel alive. To cut loose and do something crazy. Something they wouldn't ordinarily do."

He listened as she went on. It was easy paying attention to her when everything she said seemed so pure and genuine.

"During residency, I was on my ER rotation and we got this guy who's best friend had recently been killed in a car accident and he had just decided to take up mountain biking. I guess it was something his friend did, but he'd never done it before. Anyway, he took a bad spill and dislocated his shoulder. We got him fixed up and out of there, but...I don't know...I guess I can relate." She hesitated a moment. "I told you it's just me and my dad, right?"

He nodded.

With a vulnerability he found fascinating, she continued, "My mom passed away about five years ago. After her funeral, my dad was a mess. Of course, you could probably guess, so was I. But, I couldn't let it show. Not until later." She blinked away the wetness he saw forming in her eyes. "After I'd taken care of my dad and he finally went to sleep, I...went out with a few friends and got completely wasted for the first time in my life." He was surprised by a sudden giggle. "I don't think I'll ever be able to look at a bottle of Jack Daniels again, without going cross-eyed. My friends practically had to pour me into bed."

"Did you feel alive?"

"For about four hours," she grimaced. "Then..., not really."

Ronon chuckled lowly. Jennifer pulled her hand away out of his now easy and comfortable grasp. "Hang on one sec."

She replaced her hand onto his tattooed forearm with a shy smile and bent over. She removed her black shoes, then, she let them hang in one hand while retaking his large hand.

"There. That's better," she sighed.

"You okay?"

"Heels. Not really walking shoes," she said with a frown. "My feet are just hurting a little."

"Come on," he nudged her toward the pier.

"Where are we going?"

"Just come on," he encouraged her.

* * *

When Mason got home, the first thing he did was dump his coat on the bed and unhook the sling from around his neck. His arm fell free and he gave it a few probing stretches. He kept expecting a knifing pain to run through his shoulder or some other pleading signal from his body that he wasn't ready, but of course, there was nothing. Nothing to stop him, at all. Nothing that would even slow him down.

With grim determination, he set about taking off his dress blues and putting them back where they belonged. They were soon replaced on his body by a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Mason rifled through his bathroom in his clear plastic bin of first aid supplies and medical bric-a-brac he'd collected over the years, until he found the ace bandage. Taking the loose end in his right hand and grounding it, he tucked in his arm and with the left, proceeded to wrap the bandage tightly around and around his torso, literally tying his right arm down. Putting the pins through the stretchy beige material was tricky with one hand, but it only took Mason a few minutes to get the job done.

He tested his work, struggling against the binding. The infirmary issued sling, besides being irritating, wouldn't have been adequate. He couldn't afford to have _any_ leeway. He couldn't tear his shoulder up now. When he couldn't budge, he got down on the ground.

Mason put his knees up, his stormy blue eyes focused on the wall opposite him, cold and unseeing. He needed to get back to where he belonged; in the field, not the infirmary. No matter what Beckett thought, he _knew_ he could've made a difference in whether Vega had lived or died. If he'd been where he was supposed to be instead of...

He crossed his left arm over and imploring his muscles to perform as they used to, he propelled his upper body off the ground.

_One...two...three._...

She was with Ronon, now. There wasn't any more question. And that was the way it should be. Ronon was the better man.

_ Eight...nine...ten..._

He'd made the call and he was going to stand by it. Even if she had wanted him... _Had she?_ It didn't make any difference. She didn't need him or his baggage. By staying away, he was doing them both a favor.

_Thirteen...fourteen...fifteen..._

But then, why did it feel like his chest was crushing in on itself? Why was he in agony in a place where all feeling was supposed to be a memory? Why couldn't he breathe?

* * *

As John piloted the puddlejumper up and out of the Jumper bay, Teyla sat in the second seat. He had slung his dress coat over the back of the pilot's chair and undone his collar and tie. The neat and polished uniform, while handsome on him, had never quite suited John. He was far more at home in his BDU's. More laid back and—Teyla grinned as she looked at his wayward, ungovernable hair—messier.

"Okay, Tower, we're clear. Closing the hangar bay doors," John reported over the comms.

_"Roger that, Colonel. We'll see you in a few hours."_

Once free, John set a course over the vast expanse of ocean. Teyla eyed the small, brown basket nestled behind the pilot's seat.

"What made you think of doing this?" she inquired.

John tilted his head her way. With a shrug, he shared, "Well..., at first, I thought about making a really quick trip to see the Athosians. Hanging out with your friends...maybe getting a little of Jol's home cooking would do you some good and help you get your mind off things." He pressed a few buttons on the control console and cocked his eyebrow, "But then, I realized she'd want to spend the whole time talking your ear off and Feylon'd be bound to get in on it. And they'd get upset when you had to leave so soon. Then, all of sudden, _I'd _be in trouble for taking you away again...," John paused his rambling to take a breath, "...and that woman's got a good arm, Teyla!"

"Not the relaxing afternoon you had in mind?"

"Not even close," he said, laying one of those crooked smiles she adored on her, just before he turned serious again. "I just...I thought it'd be a good idea for both of us to get out of Atlantis. Just you and me. Even if it's just for a little while."

Teyla smiled in return. While it would have been wonderful to pay a visit to her people, she couldn't help but think of the truth of John's supposition. Such a short time with them would have meant a lot of animated conversations, attentions that her loved ones deserved, and an inevitable let down for all involved. Teyla had to admit that she wasn't up for that at the moment. She didn't have it in her at the moment to worry about anyone other than the man who, last night, had loved her, comforted her, and held her in his embrace, and their little one inside her. She craved the solitude.

"A picnic on the mainland sounds lovely, John."

* * *

Ronon led Jennifer across the pier. Once they reached the edge, high above the ocean water surrounding them, he took her to the side of the massive, floating city. He pointed out the ladder made of separate metal rungs built right into the wall and climbed down, beckoning her to follow him.

Jennifer watched him nimbly scale the narrow steps, the wind whipping around them in strong gusts, until he was out of sight. Abandoning her shoes at the top, she cautiously gripped onto the rungs and lowered herself. One step at a time and a hundred recitations of 'don't look down' later, she felt Ronon's muscular arms touching her hips, guiding her descent to a small platform off to the side, just above water level. Perfect for soaking her aching feet.

Opaque panels, each about the size of a big-screen TV, lined the wall right next to where they were standing. Jennifer wondered what they were for. Part of the stardrive, maybe? Whatever system they were a part of, it was powered down, clearly unnecessary while Atlantis was at rest on the surface of the ocean.

"How did you find this place?" she asked, amazed. This spot wasn't exactly in the tourist's manual.

"I don't spend all my time in the gym," he shrugged.

"Apparently not," she smiled. "I'd be willing to bet you've found a few things Rodney would give a month's worth of fruit cups to get a look at."

Ronon adopted a smug expression. "Maybe."

Jennifer sat down and slung her legs over the side, dipping her feet into the water.

"Better?"

"Oh my God, that feels so good," she almost moaned, the heat of the afternoon and the walking washing away. Through closed eyelids, she murmured to herself, "I wish I could jump in the rest of the way."

"What's stopping you?"

She jerked her eyes back up. She didn't think he'd actually heard her. "Oh, no. No, no, no. We've got that briefing in a little while and...I'm wearing..." she waved at her chiffon blouse and skirt. "No, I couldn't."

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and a face full of mischief. Jennifer held her breath as the hulking warrior tugged on his shirt and threw it out of the way. She allowed herself an instant of distraction by the perfectly sculpted musculature, beautifully accented by his tattoos. The only thing marring the picture were the myriad of bruises from that last mission, spread out over his torso in a myriad of colors ranging from green, through to brilliant, raw purples, all the way to harsh black. But if Ronon was in any pain from his battle souvenirs—and he had to be—he didn't show it. He never did.

"What are you doing?" she managed.

Ronon stepped up to edge and stared down at her.

"Something crazy."

He dove into the rippling sea water. Seconds later, he broke the surface again and paddled back toward her. His dreadlocks clung along his cheekbones and to his neck, and on impulse, he threw them back, spraying her with water droplets. Jennifer drew in a sharp breath and stiffened in surprise.

"How's the water?" she inquired in feigned annoyance.

"Not bad," he responded in his gravelly voice. "You should try it."

"Ronon..."

"Doc..."

Jennifer chewed on her lower lip. She couldn't deny that part of her was dying to break free. To shut down the voice in her head that constantly told her the million reason why not to do something and just do it. To shed the nervous, studious, shy girl and be someone else for a few minutes. Someone fun and impulsive. More like her other friends. More like the incredible guy with her now who was only trying to help her deal with a terrible loss. By seizing the moment.

She found her fingers playing along the waist of her blouse. She gripped the material tightly and hesitated. She caught Ronon's eyes. There was no judgment in them. No expectation. No pressure. If she chose to stay where she was, he'd be satisfied with swimming and talking to her while she stuck with safely soaking her feet. If she chose to join him...who knew?

"If you tell anyone I did this..." she threatened, the nerves in her voice apparent to her, if not to him.

Jennifer pulled her navy blouse off, revealing the nude, lace bra underneath, and reached for the zipper of her skirt. As it slipped down her thighs and joined the rapidly growing pile of clothing on the platform, she was thankful that today hadn't turned out to be a thong day. A bra and panties were one thing. She might as well have been wearing a bikini, but a thong would've taken things into a whole new realm of uncomfortable.

She took a deep breath and dove. The cold water hit her in a way that shocked her body. She kicked out and hit the top as Ronon closed in on her.

"Ronon! It's freezing!" she sputtered, pushing her hair away from her eyes and, feeling strangely invigorated, sending a playfully indignant splash his way.

"It's not so bad," he grinned.

"You and I obviously have different definitions of 'not so bad'."

Beneath the surface, she felt Ronon's powerful hand surround her arm and drag her through the water toward him. Treading water, he turned her so she was facing away from him, her back tucked in tight to his body.

"How's that?"

It may have been too soon for his natural heat to mingle with hers, but Jennifer could feel her heart beating loudly and her cheeks warming by the second.

* * *

"Not hungry?" John asked.

He'd planned and packed enough food for him and either one Rodney McKay or one very pregnant Teyla. There wasn't a lot of difference these days. _Well..._ One was definitely hotter than the other. At the moment, she was doing a great job of reminding him why his pants had always seemed a little bit too tight around her. In her chocolate brown, flowy dress, Teyla was lying half-prone on the blanket he'd brought, her partially eaten plate set aside, running her toes through the sand.

She smiled, a peaceful look on her angelic face for the first time all day. She reached out her hand for him.

"Come," she whispered.

John scooted closer and she placed his hand on her belly.

"Hey! Somebody's a fan of the spicy stuff!" John quipped feeling his baby girl flipping over and over.

He could feel the warm, welcome impression of Teyla in his mind. _That's gotta be a little uncomfortable._

_Not at all. I cannot think of anything more pleasant, right now._

In fact, after a morning shrouded in death, Teyla was feeling very much alive thanks to their daughter's happy feet and it was contagious. His hand rolled in small peaks and valleys with the soft flesh of her stomach beneath her dress. John chuckled. _She's gonna be a handful when she finally gets here._

_ And you cannot wait._

John cast her a cock-eyed glance, his hazel eyes shining. _Are you reading my mind?_

_ Yes. _Teyla's languorous smile widened.

_ You're getting really good at this, Teyla._

_ As are you. _She squeezed his hand.

John got comfortable next to Teyla and the couple sat together enjoying their daughter's acrobatics in silence. The roar of the ocean waves, the periodic chirping of birds nearby, the breeze rustling the leaves of the trees a little further inland; it really was a beautiful day. It was the kind of day where, if they had more time, they could take a walk and explore the mainland a little like they used to. Make love on the beach. With not a cloud in sight, they could spend the day together and later, build a fire and camp out under a brilliant blanket of stars in each other's arms without fear of the elements dampening the mood. It was a shame that it had started out on such a wrong note. He wished for a few fleeting minutes that they didn't have to go back.

Before long, the baby quieted and John conceded to reality. "You know, Woolsey's awfully curious as to how you knew we were in trouble. After this meeting, you, me, and the baby...this is probably it."

Teyla met his gaze. "There will be other moments, John, when it is just you and me."

"Promise?"

"I promise," she replied, a smile breaking out. He leaned into the feel of her fingers running along the skin of cheek. _I cherish these times, John._

John stretched his head toward her and kissed her tenderly. _Me, too._

She sighed underneath him. "At least with Dr. Keller and Dr. Beckett informed, we may begin to learn more of what is happening between us to make this possible."

"Maybe," he sulked.

Normally, he would have agreed with her, but in this case, he knew all he needed to. He was connected to his little family in a way that was unique and transcendent. The science was immaterial. He'd lost his heart to Teyla, wholly and completely, and being able to see how much she loved and treasured him in return gave him more confidence in their relationship than any he'd ever had. His ties with his mother had been severed when she was taken by cancer and Patrick Sheppard had never been the same, leading to the perpetual undercurrent of tension between the two of them and their eventual falling out. His marriage to Nancy wasn't exactly a shining example of matrimonial bliss and despite their new start, his relationship with Dave was still a work in progress. Teyla had been the one to wake him up from the stupor of his solitary existence and realize that he wanted those kinds of ties to people again. That he wanted to be tied to _her_ and every time they touched each other, he was reminded why. She could see him through all his faults, his insecurities, the parts of him that he shielded with a rigid tenacity, and make him feel at home—and wanted. He may be thinking illogically, but now that he finally had it, he guarded that closeness jealously. It should be for them and them alone.

John gathered his legs underneath him. "C'mon."

He helped Teyla to her feet and they padded across the sand toward the ebbing waterline. They waded into the shallow water just deep enough for the water to flow back and forth over their feet, the mud and salt of the ocean massaging them as they walked.

"What will happen to Dusty and Dr. Porter, now?" Teyla asked. Obviously reality hadn't released it's hold on Teyla, either. They were both too bound to Atlantis and too responsible to be able to keep up any pretense for long.

"Temporary reassignment. Just until I can find someone to take over command," John responded. "And I'm sure that Wilcox is gonna be banging on my door soon." In answer to her unspoken question, he added, "I can see Porter being open to talking about what happened, but Mehra... He's probably gonna want me to corral her into a room and hogtie her for him."

"You would do no such thing."

"No, but..." John shrugged, then trailed off.

Knowing he had something on his mind, Teyla pressed, "What is it?"

"It...probably couldn't hurt, that's all. Talking about it," he clarified.

Unused to hearing such a statement coming from him, Teyla shot him a perplexed look.

"What?"

"You have never been a great champion of sharing your personal thoughts with others, John."

John smirked. "I talk to you, don't I?

"On occasion," she allowed him with a knowing look. _But, there continue to be things you will __admit to no one, not even to me. _

He lowered his head and watched the surf break over their toes.

"I was just thinking during the memorial..." he started cautiously, "...how I'd feel if I lost half my team. Ronon, Capshaw, Rodney, you... If, suddenly, two of you were gone..." He locked onto her caring brown eyes and swallowed around the lump forming in his throat. "I don't know what I'd do."

"I have not been on your team for some time, John," she pointed out with a tightening hold on his hand and a smile. She could see how hard that had been for him to say out loud.

"Teyla..." he said softly, meaningfully, "You never left."

* * *

As he'd expected for this debriefing, emotions ran high. Precisely the reason he didn't want to do this today. Rodney, perhaps unusually, being the ring leader of those ready to charge back into the fray and Woolsey, ever the straight-laced and dispassionate thinker, was trying to keep order.

"You didn't see them! You weren't there!"

"I've read over Sgt. Mehra and Dr. Porter's reports. I believe I have a decent understanding of what occurred."

"Really?!" Rodney rebutted skeptically and came back harshly. Too harshly. "Did you have to watch Vega getting her skull caved in by one of those things?"

At that, Richard ducked his head, trying to maintain his cool demeanor and patience.

John attempted to take things down a notch, although the urge to take his own anger out on Michael was nearly overpowering. "What Rodney is trying to say, Mr. Woolsey, and with all due respect, you haven't seen these things in action. Michael's out there, right now, creating an army of supersoldiers. He's had six months to recover from the setback we dealt him and it's obvious he's been busy."

"To seek his revenge on the Wraith."

"It is true Michael holds no love for the Wraith since he was cast out, but he has no use for the humans of this galaxy, either," Teyla pointed out. "Once he has dealt with the Wraith, he will not stop until he has killed or enslaved every last man, woman, and child."

Mr. Woolsey grimaced, probably realizing that his position wasn't getting across the table. He tried to clarify, "I recognize the need for expediency. It's clear that Michael poses a threat and after the deaths of Major Teldy and Captain Vega, I understand your desire to run him to ground. But, we can't proceed if we have nothing to go on. From what I gather, Dr. McKay, you weren't able to retrieve any new information from Michael's databanks?"

"I might have been able to, except the base computer was irreparably damaged during the fight."

"You wouldn't be alive right now if Mehra hadn't done what she did," Ronon verbally thrashed the riled up physicist.

"Believe me, I know that!" Rodney threw back. Then, suddenly his ire dissipated and he quietly added, "I just wish..."

John stopped him. They'd all gone through how they might've done things differently a hundred times in their heads to no avail. Rodney, though awful at conveying it, was no exception. "We all do, Rodney."

"What about the samples you took, Dr. Beckett? Have you been able to learn anything?" Mr. Woolsey redirected the conversation, trying to bring things back on track. "If we don't have a way track him at this point, we might at least gain a certain insight into what he's planning."

"I'm still waiting on some test results, but from what I can tell, those people were being altered in a way similar ta what we've seen before. Certain DNA sequences in their genetic code were being stripped and replaced with new coding," Carson explained.

"More hybrids?"

"Each of the samples I took indicated that those people had been infused with Wraith DNA, yes."

"Wait," John said, his brows furrowing. "You told me those people all died two months ago, right?"

"Approximately. That's correct," the doctor confirmed.

"How is that significant, Colonel?" Woolsey asked.

"Well, Michael already knows how to make these Wraith/human hybrids. He has for a long time. When you have a prize-winning recipe for biscuits, you don't start screwing around with the mix," Sheppard reasoned. "So, what's he trying to do?"

"Suped-up supersoldiers?" Rodney proposed, his impressive sarcasm hitting a new stride, "Is it just me or is this just sounding better and better all the time?"

Dr. Beckett offered, "Well, from what I saw in the test subjects and taking into account the level of decomposition, there was massive cellular degeneration. Whatever Michael was experimenting with, there may a fundamental genetic incompatibility at play, here. He wasn't able ta make it work."

"Oh, look! A silver lining. Do we, at least, have an idea of what creepy and disgusting characteristic he'll be using to pulverize us with next time?"

"Unfortunately, as a side effect of the degeneration, I'm having a difficult time isolating what exactly Michael was attempting ta graft into their DNA."

"Of course," Rodney finished pompously.

"Okay, Dr. Beckett," Woolsey broke in. "It goes without saying, I'd like you to keep us informed as soon as find something out."

"Aye."

"Colonel, where do we stand with our guest down in the brig?"

John leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "We've taken a few runs at him. I was going to head down again after we're done here. He's clearly been drinking the Kool-aid, but otherwise, he's been pretty quiet. No names, no locations, potential targets...nothing. He seems pretty content knowing someday we'll all be licking Michael's boots."

"Well, presently, he also seems to be our best potential lead in locating Michael. I'm open to suggestions."

"I say we kill him," Ronon suggested.

"As tempting as that may sound, I don't think that would be the most prudent use for him," Richard commented wryly.

Until this point, Dr. Keller had kept quiet for the part. Her hair in a tight ponytail, she cast a sideways glance at Ronon. "As much as I hate to say it, that man down there is as much a victim as anyone else. We have the ability to make him the person he used to be and he deserves our help."

Woolsey nodded. "And we will, Dr. Keller. But, from your own reports from six months ago, when you were able to cure Halling, he - and I quote - "...can no longer retain a useful frame of reference for his memories as a hybrid. They have become disjointed scraps of images without true meaning." If that remains true in this case, and we have no reason to believe it wouldn't, as soon as we treat that man, he will no longer be of any tactical use to us."

"So, we're gonna leave him like that? He may have a home of his own out there somewhere. A family..."

Sheppard stepped in. "Of course not, Doc, but we need that intel. We can't let Michael keep strip mining planets for people to fill out his ranks."

"What about Teyla?" Rodney blurted out.

John narrowed his eyes at the scientist. "What _about_ Teyla?"

"Teyla could question him."

"What?" John said, angrily.

"Rodney, I..." Teyla tried.

But, McKay bulled ahead to explain his position. "You did it with Halling. When we were prisoners, you used your...Wraith telepathic whatsit...and you got him to release us. Maybe, you could...do it again."

"She's seven months pregnant, McKay!" John shouted, seriously considering hopping the table and clobbering the man.

"And the hybrid is under armed guard, locked in a fully powered, Ancient shielded holding cell. She'd be perfectly safe."

"Halling also knew me," Teyla added. Her reluctance to meet the hybrid prisoner face-to-face apparent. "A part of him still trusted in me and desired help. This man...he does not know who I am. Getting into his mind and breaking through the obstacles Michael has put into place would be extremely difficult."

"But, you _could _ do it?" Woolsey inquired.

John regarded her intensely across the table.

"My...abilities...have grown as my pregnancy has progressed," Teyla admitted to others for the first time. "It is possible."

_ Teyla..._

_ If it is the only way, then I must try. You know this. Michael must be stopped._

Mr. Woolsey stated cautiously, "Teyla, given your condition, I can't ask you to do anything potentially dangerous and I won't. But, if you think you are capable of..."

"I will see what I can do, Mr. Woolsey," she said. Her eyes never leaving John's.

"Good," he seemed pleased. Then, he went on, more subdued. "Good. Teyla...Colonel Sheppard, I think it's important that we, perhaps, have Dr. Keller run a few tests when you get the opportunity. Somehow, you were able to intuit that Col. Sheppard's team was in trouble from several thousand lightyears away. I can't help but wonder what else may be going on with your...pregnancy... that we might need to know about."

Barely above a whisper, John rumbled, "Mr. Woolsey..., Teyla and I have already talked about it. You can run your tests."

* * *

As Teyla, John, and Ronon entered the room, the guards on duty snapped to attention. With only a few words from their CO, the two soldiers' became again focused solely on their prisoner with the long stunners braced at their sides. Ronon hung back with the guards, his hand primed on the handle of his weapon.

The hybrid, a seasoned, tough looking male in his late forties, was crouched in the corner of the cell, staring at them all menacingly. In a single glance, Teyla knew this would be very different than her experience with Halling. Even when Halling was deep in the throes of combating Michael's hold over him, he had never been openly hostile with her. This creature, however, emanated hate through every pore. Like Golian, the process of his change had driven this man mad.

Teyla stepped toward the cell.

_ I'm right behind you, _came John's reassuring, strong voice, only the spearhead of his inner conflict. As a military man, John knew there was a good chance she would be successful, and in order to protect Atlantis and the rest of the people in Pegasus they needed any information they could get. But, as her chosen and as a father, he didn't want her or his child within a mile of one of Michael's abominations.

_I know._

The hybrid creature slowly rose from the corner and neared the bars. Behind her, Teyla could feel John's tension grow. The prisoner's yellow, slitted eyes released the glare he'd held for his captors and widened. He inhaled deeply, an act that hadn't grown any less disturbing since the last time.

"You have come."

"You know me?" she questioned.

His eyes narrowed as he answered cryptically, "We know you."

He moved away from her, appearing to lose interest and busy himself sizing up the men waiting to aid her if need be, but Teyla could sense his pretense. He was fascinated by her.

"Have you a name?"

His head snapped back to her for a second before resuming the charade. "Borash of Metak Tria."

"I am not familiar with your world."

"It matters not. It is no more. Those who would not serve the Master perished," his deep, waspy voice crooned. "As will you."

Teyla shut out her sorrow at learning of another people that had fallen prey to Michael's maniacal ambitions and concentrated on stopping him. She cleared her mind and sought out the sinister barricades of the one in front of her.

Borash smile as though intoxicated at her entrance and it took all Teyla's control not to recoil in abhorrence. The hybrids, being part Wraith as she was, also shared the Wraith's sense of need and purpose in the presence of a female; a Queen. And it was through that need that made them more susceptible to her probing and influence. Teyla traversed the edges of his mind, searching for the barrier and soon found it. It was thick and unyielding, where Halling's had presented a less daunting task. This one had willingly given himself over to Michael, unlike her dear friend who had fought tooth and nail against it, even after his transformation. Teyla pressed against the forbidding walls.

"You serve your Master. You wish to return to him?"

"Yes."

"Where is he?" she pushed.

Borash laughed at her mockingly. "You know nothing. You cannot hope to understand."

"Help me to understand," she teased as she continued to impress herself upon his consciousness.

"He will free us from our tormentors. He will make our enemies a footnote in annals of time. Dust to be swept away and forgotten."

"Michael would destroy the Wraith?" she baited him.

"The Master has a great plan. We merely play a part."

"How could he hope to destroy the Wraith? The Wraith are neverending."

"I know the future."

A crack began to form and Teyla smiled.

"Tell me of this future," she said, pounding harder and harder against the wall.

The hybrid began to stare at her, confused and suspicious, but he spoke. "Until his might is assembled, the Wraith will die. Their need to feed is a weakness that will bring them to ruin."

"The Wraith infighting. You think they'll keep destroying each other over the human population shortage?" John interjected.

Borash sneered at him. "You know nothing!"

Teyla mentally commanded the hybrid's attention, playing along the cracks and trying to create a breach.

Ceding somewhat to her will, Borash went on. "The shortage grows with the plague. Those who are unworthy, die. Those that live will bring death upon the Wraith."

Teyla looked to her lover. "John, the plague. Was there not talk of one?"

He nodded. "Awhile back, but we haven't heard anything since. I guess Michael's using the plague to further his plans." He shook his head. From inside, she could hear him seething in frustration. People everywhere were dying. "We need more Teyla. Anything you can get."

Already stretching the limits of her abilities alone, Teyla began to skim the surface of her daughter's latent potential to aid her. Even such a shallow connection would lend her a significant boost.

Teyla swung into Borash's mind like a man swings an axe, splintering pieces of Michael's hold like it was nothing. She pulled back for a moment, stunned at the ease in which she'd managed that. Thus far, Teyla had experienced things in congress with her daughter that she was astounded and overwhelmed by. Teyla asked herself, what would her child be capable of one day?

A low, haunting chuckle came from inside the cell, echoing through the room. Borash's murderous eyes turned toward her belly as he drew near the bars. "Great things. Beyond reckoning." He screwed up his face and screamed, slamming his hands into the impenetrable force field and sending cascades of blue light shooting across the cell.

John's men tensed, ready to fire. Teyla heard Ronon's blaster powering up.

"Wait!" Teyla shouted at them. That thing had heard her. "What does Michael want with my child?" she demanded.

Michael's malice poured from his mouthpiece. "The child grows well. Our master will be pleased."

Funneling her fear, her concern, and her desire for vengeance against Michael on the creature, Teyla pummeled the barrier.

"What do you know of my child?! Of me?!"

Borash's body drooped under the strain of the assault. "We know you, Teyla Emmagen of Athos. Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. The Satedan dog, Specialist Ronon Dex," he ranted, clinging to his Master's propoganda tenaciously.

From his position, Ronon snarled.

His words dripping vitriol, Borash spat in Ronon's direction. "Servants of Atlantis, we know you all. Atlantis will fall and each of you, in your turn, will bow." Borash gave a last defiant grin. "And the child? The child is OURS."

_Teyla..._ John broke through in warning, but she could barely hear him. Her friends' murderer, the destroyer of her people knew about their baby. Her heart thundered as her every maternal instinct tore through her veins.

Teyla reached a spectral hand across the psychic barrier as though it had vanished into nothingness and squeezed.

* * *

_Teyla... _

John called to her. Her dread mounted in his ears and inside his head, and twisted into something fierce and deadly.

"Teyla!" he shouted out loud. "Don't!"

In the next instant, Borash's insane threats were cut off. Choking sounds hit the air as his knees collided with the hard floor, slammed downward by an invisible force. Blood began streaming from the man's nose while Teyla stood as still as stone in front of him, hard and unwavering.

His men, aware something bad was happening, but unsure what to do, aimed the massive Wraith stunners at Teyla.

"Sir?!"

"Don't you point those at her!" John shouted, as Ronon's blaster targeted Lt. Franks' head.

"Put. It. Down!" Ronon warned through his teeth.

John left it to Ronon to deal with the soldiers. He grabbed her by the shoulders as firmly as he'd ever dared handle her before. Inside the cell, Borash flew backwards into the forcefield and remained there, almost as though he was pinned against it.

"Teyla, you have to stop!"

She pried her eyes away from the cell, gasping. Released from her stranglehold on him, Borash's taut body hit the ground with a thud.

"Check him!" John ordered the shocked guards. "What the hell were you thinking?!" he flung at her.

"Michael..." she groped for air. Her hand clutched at her stomach. "He will take her, John! Our baby..."

"That hybrid was our only chance to find him!"

She shook her head, her eyes growing cloudy. "John..." she managed as she started to sink, the color draining from her face.

John arms fumbled to reach around her in time. Her legs turned to rubber and gave out. He sank to his knees, following her body as she went down to cushion her fall. "Get Keller down here, now!" he shouted loud enough for anyone within half a mile to hear.

"Teyla...Teyla, don't..." John's throat seized up, seeing her eyes roll back and her lids close. His hand reached around to caress her cheek. "No...no! Teyla!"


	20. What to Expect When You're Expecting

Author's Notes: This one is a little shorter than I intended, but...I thought you guys REALLY needed an update! So sorry! Lots of medical stuff, some of which I know firsthand, some of which was research, and some of which I totally and completely made up. Here's hoping you can't tell what's what and as always, I'd love to know what you think! Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 20 – What to Expect When You're Expecting**

xo

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," John whispered over and over in a rush, his lips lightly contacting Teyla's hair as he hugged her to him. Somewhere in the background of his hushed pleas, Lt. Franks took to his radio, calling for immediate medical assistance. A terse acknowledgment from Dr. Keller soon followed, but it barely registered. _She just passed out. She's fine. She's gonna be fine. _"Don't do this, Teyla. Open your eyes." John's hand rubbed vigorously up and down her back, imploring her to move. "C'mon, Teyla."

"Sheppard," Ronon called him.

John pried his gaze away from the blank, dark wall in front of him. Crouched over the still form of the hybrid, Ronon looked back at John and shook his head. The prisoner was dead, and as blindsided and upset as he'd been less than a minute ago, there wasn't a single molecule inside him capable of caring anymore. The one person he would willingly risk anything for—pain, torment, death, even love, and the terrifying vulnerability that came along with it—was lying limp in his arms. Nothing else mattered. Nothing.

A faint whimper from his lap spun him back around. Ignoring the scene in the cell, John desperately scanned Teyla's face for some sign that she was regaining consciousness. He came away disappointed. She couldn't rouse herself and, all too aware of the treacherous passage of time, he couldn't wait any longer. He'd seen her like this before—unconscious and carrying the precious little girl they'd created together in her womb. He'd waited then, counting the seconds ticking away for help to come, each one like the sounding of a drum. Every passing breath heavy, as though he was slowly being smothered. Every heartbeat, another second she could slip away and he would lose all that he had, all that he was. He couldn't—he _wouldn't_—sit here and wait again.

Cradling her head against his chest and supporting her back, John wrapped his other arm under Teyla's knees and gathered his feet underneath him. His legs strained and soon he was upright. He carefully readjusted her weight, hoisting her body back up in a short heave.

"I've got you, Teyla," he spoke to her softly. "I've got you."

As her swollen belly made contact with his torso and settled there, John heard another distant echoing of a drum. His baby was in there, helpless and tied to Teyla's well-being in every way. He had to hurry.

John pivoted and ran into the hallway.

"Sheppard to Dr. Keller."

"_Keller, here."_

"Forget about coming down here. Just get to the nearest transporter. Teyla and I are coming to you."

* * *

Waiting outside the transporter for Col. Sheppard to arrive with her team and a gurney on standby, Jennifer hadn't really been sure what to expect. Lt. Franks' open channel call for help hadn't been big on details, but knowing Teyla had been interrogating the prisoner, she could only imagine the worst. Prior to his being cured, she'd seen Halling's wild raving and the shocking level of violence he'd, fortunately, directed mostly toward himself in the final stages of his captivity. If the hybrid currently occupying the holding cell was anything like that and had somehow managed an escape, Jennifer shuddered to think of what might have happened.

So when the transporter door slid aside revealing a clean, bloodless Teyla wrapped securely in John's protective grasp, it was almost a relief. A fine sheen of sweat beginning to glisten on his brow, Col. Sheppard swiftly stepped out. He gently released Teyla down onto the rolling stretcher and into their care. The nurses efficiently secured the sidebars as Jennifer moved in to do a rapid assessment of Teyla's condition.

"Teyla? Teyla, can you hear me?" Jennifer asked, her tone tight and controlled, but the way she tore her stethoscope from around her neck bespoke her worry. Even with the consolation of having no observable injuries, an unresponsive patient was never a good sign, most especially when there was a pregnancy at stake.

"Heart rate's a little low, but steady," the doctor murmured. She replaced the stethoscope in a rushed swoop and pulled out her penlight, checking Teyla's pupils. "Equal and reactive. Teyla?" she tried again.

A slight dip of the head and a barely audible moan was all the answer she received, but even that meager reaction was welcome. With a nod from Dr. Keller, the highly experienced medical team strode ahead, pushing the gurney hurriedly back toward the infirmary. As she marched along, never moving more than a foot away from her patient, she began digging for more information.

"I don't see any obvious signs of trauma."

His attention still hopelessly intent on his family, John barely managed, "No, you wouldn't. She, um..."

Jennifer had nothing but sympathy for what he must have been feeling, but she had to get him to focus. "Colonel, I need to know what happened, so I know how best to help her."

Keeping up the rapid pace through the hallway, passing people and doorways like they were formless blurs, John tried to explain what he'd seen. Teyla using her abilities to break down the hybrid's defenses and glean valuable information. The prisoner's threats and what occurred in their wake.

"She attacked him," Jennifer surmised and continued, "Channeling the baby's abilities."

"Yeah," John got out. "Then, she just collapsed."

The infirmary doors parted to allow them admittance.

"Did she hit her head?"

"No, I...I got to her in time."

"Has anything like this ever happened before?" she pressed, as she and the nurses wheeled Teyla into place at a monitoring station. Sheppard stayed right with them.

"No," John stated firmly. "Nothing like this. She gets tired, but that's it."

"Okay, Colonel," Jennifer replied. To the nurses, she quickly, but calmly ordered, "Let's get some O2 moving and prep an IV saline solution for Mom. And we need to get a fetal heart monitor and pressure transducer on Baby, right now."

"Is she gonna be okay, Doc?" he asked, his face becoming a practiced front, seemingly detached and inscrutable. But, as Jennifer looked up, those eyes—those expressive eyes—gave him away.

Dr. Keller stepped away from the bed and pulled the privacy curtain, giving the nurses room to do their work while they carefully removed Teyla's clothing and got the monitors set up. She took John aside.

"At this point, there is absolutely no reason to think Teyla won't recover fully and soon," she tried her best to assuage his fears. "As soon as we get her settled, we're gonna get an ultrasound and we'll take her for a scan. We'll find out what's going on."

He nodded absently.

"But, I would like to get a scan of you as well, Colonel."

His head snapped up. "What? Why?"

"Whatever interaction is happening between Teyla and the baby has also been affecting you. In your case, it may be to a lesser extent, but I never did buy that quick healing story, Colonel. And last I checked, it isn't possible for two people to be able to sense each other from two different planets," she said pointedly. "It may help us treat Teyla. It may not. But either way, the more we know, the better."

"Okay," he agreed.

"Dr. Keller?" Rachel peered out from behind the privacy curtain. "She's waking up."

* * *

As John stepped behind the curtain with Keller close behind, the nurses had only just managed to slip the hospital gown over Teyla's naked body. He didn't waste any time taking up residence in the chair adjacent to the bed. The oxygen mask covered most of her features, but John immediately locked onto to the dark luster of Teyla's mahogany eyes peering up at him. His hand cupped the side of her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek.

"Give her a minute, Colonel," Jennifer quietly advised. "She's probably still a bit disoriented."

Not quite finished carrying out Jennifer's orders, the nurses angled around John as they worked. They could have asked him to step aside, but he had the feeling they knew better than to try. Rachel went to work starting the IV while Hannah briefly lifted Teyla's gown again and began carefully maneuvering two gray belts around her stomach. John might've found the way the red-headed nurse consciously worked to keep Teyla from being exposed during the process funny if he hadn't been so preoccupied. He'd seen, touched, and worshiped every bewitching inch of her body time and time again, as evidenced by the pleasing swell of her belly. And he would again. As long as he lived, he would show her how special she was to him and how he needed her, but for now, he simply needed her to be alright.

Teyla blinked sluggishly while Hannah completed her task. She pulled the straps surrounding her mid-section tight into place and as she slipped the gown back over Teyla's body, a rapid, pulsing sound emanated from the monitoring system on the other side of the bed. Stirred by the thrumming of their baby's heartbeat, Teyla started to perk up. With obvious effort, her fingers searched out his hand still resting on her face and clumsily closed around it.

"John..." she murmured from behind the oxygen mask.

A ghost of a smile played on his lips at her voice. He whispered back a low, "Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Very...tired."

"I figured," he replied, already knowing she would be.

After getting a preliminary look at the pair of vital signs being reported with her jaw tightened in concerned calculation, Dr. Keller came around behind him. "Teyla, do you remember what happened?"

Her eyes wandered briefly as she visibly checked her memory. A small tilt of the head and her hand wandering down to cover her stomach indicated that she did. "Is he...?"

"He's dead," Sheppard said, hoping she would be comforted that the maniac threatening their daughter was gone. "Beckett's gone down to take care of the body."

Teyla closed her eyes and John saw her fingertips tighten imperceptibly around her swollen abdomen.

Eager to change the subject, Jennifer moved the exchange back to the more pressing matter at hand. Noticing the way she was taking short, panting breaths, the doctor asked insistently, "Teyla, are you in pain? Are you hurting anywhere?"

Without any energy in reserve, Teyla could only manage to shake her head. Remembering for himself the draining effect of their early connections, John could only imagine the all-encompassing exhaustion permeating her bones after what she'd done in the brig. She was trying valiantly to remain alert, but failing.

"It's okay, Teyla," he said, his thumb began to caress her. "Just take it easy."

Within minutes, Teyla was asleep and this time, he found he could watch her eyes close without fear. She was going to be okay.

"Colonel, I need to take her to get that scan," Jennifer urged him as she glanced back to the monitors, deciphering the series of peaks and valleys on the heart readout. But, her attention seemed more focused on the display underneath and the slowly rising mark on it.

John surrendered his position reluctantly after Rachel and Hannah reappeared and began unhooking the leads for Teyla's ride to the Ancient machine. The temptation to follow along was powerful, but he allowed it to pass unheeded. He would only get in the way and she would be back in a little while. The scan was mostly a formality, so the doctor could get a look at the physical aspect of Teyla's expanding abilities like they'd already agreed to. Teyla, herself, just needed a good nap and she'd be back to normal. That's what he had to tell himself, anyway, when they peeled the curtain back and took her away.

As she disappeared around the corner, John ran his hands through his hair, tousling it roughly, and groaned out loud in an attempt to shake off some of the anxiety crawling inside him. It didn't help much. He stared regretfully at the now vacant area where Teyla's bed had been. They should have stayed on the beach.

* * *

The technology they had inherited from the Ancients never ceased to amaze Dr. Keller. The colossal significance of the Stargates and the utter power integrated into the shields, the drones, and the warships they'd seen aside, this one piece of medical technology—the scanner—was already reporting findings that would ordinarily have taken days or even weeks to gather. The very same machine that had detected Teyla's pregnancy when the baby she carried was still only a rapidly reproducing cluster of cells, was now showing her the changes the same child had wrought on Teyla's physiology in a vibrant, technicolor biochemical puzzle.

Despite her current resting state, Teyla's neural activity was off the charts, far beyond anything she'd seen before. And high levels of cortisol, a side effect indicative of a massive adrenaline surge, were represented by a large purple section stretching throughout Teyla's body. Repeated scans revealed serotonin levels slowly rising to counteract the cortisol as she slept, but the sheer volume of the stress hormone explained why she'd passed out. Her blood pressure would have spiked and then dropped like a rock. But, Teyla had linked with other minds before, _Wraith_ minds, and come through completely unscathed. Why on earth would a connection with her own child effect her body so adversely?

Jennifer huffed in dissatisfaction and drew her focus of the scans downward. Situations like this were what made obstetrics such a challenging field at times. There were two patients instead of one, occupying the same space, and when bad things happened to Mom, more often than not, Baby wasn't far behind. Remaining objective was made practically impossible when both were practically members of her own family.

"Dr. Keller," Rachel spoke up, "we have another one."

"I know. I see it, too," Jennifer confirmed. "Time?"

"Eight minutes."

Jennifer swore under her breath.

"What do you want to do?"

She wanted to make this situation disappear, that's what she wanted. Jennifer straightened. As a doctor, she had the ability and the know-how to make this right for them and she refused to let her friends down.

"Hannah, page Dr. Beckett. As soon as he's available, I'd like to get him in for a consult on these test results. And I'll need the genetic records we have on file for Col. Sheppard and Teyla, as well as the amnio results for the baby from just after Teyla's accident."

"Yes, doctor."

"And Rachel," Jennifer added, "Prep a 10% solution of Magnesium sulfate. We need to break up these contractions before she gets into a pattern and we've got full blown labor on our hands. Let's get her settled back in somewhere more private and I'll inform the Colonel."

* * *

John had been pacing the infirmary floor, in his black uniform and absently twisting his wrist, causing his watch to rub against the skin, for fifteen minutes before it occurred to him he probably looked like a panther in a cage. She was fine, he repeated to himself again. He needed to relax before Keller got it in her head to do her impersonation of a zookeeper and tranquilize him. But, the truth was, he wouldn't truly be able to relax until he was back with Teyla and he was taking her home.

Sometimes he worried that he'd been permanently screwed up by the life he led, around every corner an unknown, always fighting, and always another shoe waiting to drop. Most of the time, he handled it fine. He even got off on it. The rush and the excitement, all wrapped up in the chance to do good for people out there who couldn't stand for themselves. It was a hell of a life for someone with nothing to lose, but he wasn't that guy anymore. He hadn't been since he and Teyla had admitted the full extent of their feelings for each one another which had led to a very long, somewhat wet night and a baby on the way. When it came to them, he had everything to lose and as someone who'd lost everything before, there was nothing that scared him more.

The impression of someone behind him drew his attention and John turned, grateful for the distraction, any distraction. Rodney was waiting in the wings with seriousness deeply etched on his face.

"When did you get here?" John asked.

"Just now," he said pointing over his shoulder toward the infirmary doors. "I was in Woolsey's office going over how we could squeeze an extra five or six percent out of the, uh..." he hesitated and started again. "That's not what's important right now, is it? Anyway, I heard the page for Jennifer...and Ronon...he called and there was some yelling...well, he grunted and I yelled and..." Dr. McKay sighed as he gave up trying to explain and his nervous rambling came to a halt. "I came as soon as I heard. And Ronon'll be hear soon."

Against all odds to the contrary, John actually felt himself begin to smile. "Thanks, Rodney."

"It's what we do, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"So, how is she?" the physicist ventured.

"She's asleep," John replied. It was a load off his chest to be able to say. She'd woken up and now, she was resting.

"That's good. Sleeping's good," Rodney exclaimed encouragingly. "I assume Keller's doing a scan?"

"Yeah."

Rodney nodded rapidly. After a few seconds of pensive silence, he asked casually, "She's at...what? Twenty-eight weeks? Twenty-nine?"

"Twenty-eight," John answered, casting him a questioning look.

"Okay, so Keller's done the gestational diabetes tests, checked for Rh incompatibility, and all that other stuff?"

"Yeah..." John responded, dumbfounded. "How the hell do you know all this, McKay?"

"Well..." Rodney paused, realizing he'd probably said too much. Sheepishly, he mumbled, "...when Jeannie heard that Teyla was pregnant, she sent me these...books.

"She sent _you_ books on pregnancy?"

"I may have...asked for them."

John arched his eyebrow.

"It's best to be informed about these things!" Rodney reacted defensively. "You've been reading some, I assume."

"Maybe," John allowed, but reticently admitting it had been sporadic and he'd only read the parts pertaining to where Teyla's pregnancy had progressed.

"Just, don't eat before you read the chapters on labor and delivery," Rodney cautioned.

"McKay!"

"Fair warning, my friend. Avoid pictures and you know how they taught you in grade school to visualize as you read? Well, take my advice, just...don't."

John couldn't help himself. An unexpected, but light rumbling started in his chest and before he knew it, he was laughing. Rodney, who had been deadly earnest, suddenly broke and joined in. With a passing glance, Sheppard regarded the prickly, sometimes neurotic scientist. He'd had a lot of people over the years ask how he'd managed to not only keep from shooting McKay, but how they'd apparently become close friends. This was why.

"Thanks, McKay," he said, still chuckling. "I needed that."

"Needed what?"

"Nevermind."

But as John looked up and into the infirmary again, he saw Jennifer striding toward them wearing a somber expression. His laughter died. Next to him, Rodney followed suit.

"Colonel..."

"What is it?"

Jennifer bit her lower lip. "We should go into my office."

He shook his head furiously. He wasn't moving another inch unless it was toward Teyla. "What is it, Doc?"

As Dr. Keller delivered the news, John went numb and for a second, his ears completely blocked out what she was saying. He couldn't be hearing this. This wasn't happening. Feeling his world beginning to crack around him, he clung tenaciously to his sense of control.

At his side, a stunned Rodney reacted in his typical fashion. "This isn't because of what I just said, is it? You show me where it's written that warning a friend about labor falls under the category of famous last words!"

His body language stiff, John's leaden voice cut him off. "What do you mean she's having contractions? It's too early."

"At this stage in Teyla's pregnancy, it's not unusual to have periodic contractions and considering everything that's gone on this past week, they're to be expected," the doctor explained.

She was trying to placate him and he wasn't in any state of mind to appreciate her effort. She was holding back on him and it just pissed him off.

"But?"

"But..." she took his lead, "these are getting too close together to be considered innocuous. John, we're going to do everything we can."

"She's not due for three months!" he growled, feeling intensely that trapped animal inside dying to lash out. Seeing the wide-eyed stricken look on Rodney's face and the way Jennifer was bravely shoring herself up for a tirade, John hurriedly searched the area for a sign of Teyla. He needed to be with her, with his family, before he inevitably bit the head off someone who was only trying to help. "Where is she?"

"She's being moved into the back. So, you'll have plenty of space."

Not needed to hear another syllable, John marched away.

In his wake, Jennifer and Rodney exchanged a look that spoke volumes. After a few seconds, Jennifer squeezed his forearm, and followed after John. Watching her go, the guilt for having been the one to suggest Teyla go down there in the first place prodding him doggedly, Rodney tapped his earpiece.

"I don't know what's keeping you, Conan, but you'd better hurry it up," he stated, then stumbled over what came next. "The...the baby's in trouble."

* * *

Teyla felt tugged back toward the surface by the sounds of people milling around her, the occasional clipped remark suggesting something was wrong, and the uncomfortable sensations of a body at war with itself. She wanted to sleep and the way the overwhelming desire tried to drag her back down told her she needed to sleep, but a part of her screamed at her to throw off the tempting, warm cloak of oblivion and _wake up! _

In a dizzying echo of her subconscious, she felt a careful nudge on her shoulder and heard Jennifer repeating the call, "Teyla? Teyla, I need you to wake up for me."

"Magnesium sulfate is on board, Dr. Keller."

"Thank you, Rachel," Jennifer's soft voice said through the fog. Then came another shake. "You can do it, Teyla. Open your eyes."

She gathered her strength and managed to get a brief flash of Dr. Keller and John, before her uncooperative eyelids closed again. For some reason, she was having a hard time catching her breath. It came in short gasps. _So tight._ And whatever was clamping down on her wasn't stopping. As exhausted as she was, she lacked the ability to stop herself from allowing a subdued moan to escape.

"They're getting stronger," she heard Jennifer say.

"What...?" Teyla got out, fighting to come out of the maelstrom of sensations suddenly bombarding her by concentrating on the handsome face in front of her and trying to put aside her uncomfortably taut mid-section. He was worried. If she'd been blindfolded, she would have seen that. "...what...is happening?"

Jennifer came closer, needing her focus. "Teyla, you're experiencing some contractions, most likely brought on by stress."

The suffocating pressure of the contraction beginning to subside, Teyla's breaths began to even out again, but her heart began to pound.

"It is too soon," she whispered, growing frantic at the idea of her daughter being born so long before her proper time. She couldn't lose another child.

"We're giving you medicine to stop the contractions, Teyla," Jennifer said in a calming tone. "We need to give it time to work."

Teyla's gaze shifted back to the father of her baby. Of anyone, he would know how scared she was. "John..."

"It's gonna be okay, Teyla," he said.

"Please, John, do not lie to me," she begged him. She couldn't take it.

"Hey," he commanded her attention in the most loving way possible, his hazel eyes mesmerizing. She felt his rough hands stroking hers. "Do you remember when we started this? I said we were all gonna make it through this?"

"Yes."

"I meant it. She's gonna be fine and so are you," he drove home as though he was only beginning to believe it himself. She could rely on his strength to carry her. He'd said that last night when she'd been mourning the loss of her friends. She just didn't expect to test his resolve so soon.

Jennifer addressed them both, determinedly, her hand coming to rest on Teyla's shoulder once again. "In all honesty, we might be in for a long night, but we are _not_ having a baby today, okay? Not if I have anything to say about it." Then, Jennifer's demeanor shifted slightly as she went on. "The best thing you can do for your baby right now is to relax, but...I'm sorry, Teyla...but, I do need to check you. We need to make certain your cervix hasn't already begun to dilate."

Teyla closed her eyes and consented. It was all coming at her so fast, she wished she could dive back into unconsciousness or that John would simply pick her up and take her home. Anything to avoid playing out the events of many a nightmare. At her feet, Jennifer was putting on a pair of latex gloves while the nurse most often at her side, Rachel, began to shift the blanket upward, exposing her legs and Teyla felt her emotions rising along with it. This is was a common practice, done among her people as well, when childbirth was imminent and they needed to determine how far things had progressed, but knowing the necessity of it and having to experience it under these circumstances were two separate things. She wasn't used to feeling so helpless and wholly vulnerable, so powerless to affect her own destiny and the fate of those she loved. Her eyes dampened and a tear streamed downward toward the soft pillow underneath. John's hand tightened around hers and he scooted in close enough she could smell the remnants of his aftershave combined with his natural earthy scent. His beautiful eyes captured hers and held on for dear life.

Jennifer knelt on the base of the bed and looked back at them. "Colonel, you don't have to stay for this."

She pleaded with him silently not to go. She could do this on her own, but she didn't want to have to.

"I'm not going anywhere," he responded, deep and resolute, speaking to Teyla alone.

"Okay," Jennifer accepted.

Teyla stayed latched onto John as she felt Dr. Keller moving her legs to the side, accepting a lubricant from Rachel, and coolly talking her through it.

"John...," she whispered anxiously.

"Just look at me, Teyla," he urged her. "I've got you."

As Jennifer's fingers entered her, Teyla's fear for her daughter peaked and her strength dissolved. Tears flowing, she buried her face in John's willing shoulder.

* * *

Rodney had been wrong. Labor, real labor that was admittedly more gooey, but ended up with a healthy baby and a tired, but happy mom, couldn't in any way be worse than this. Watching silent tears fall from Teyla's eyes with every successive contraction as she stared blankly at the walls and not being able to do anything about it, knowing that if Keller's magic serum didn't work, the little girl who's fledgling mind he'd seen and touched and already completely fallen for would be born sick—it was the worst kind of torture John could imagine. But, he was driven to keep a lid on things. Teyla needed him and if he could get her through this, they really could get through anything as long as they had each other.

Beckett had turned up a few minutes ago, and he and Dr. Keller were in the thick of mulling over Teyla's test results in her office. Their muffled voices made for a fairly dull, but hypnotizing soundtrack to their worries. Frustrated by the railing on the side of the bed and the space it forced between the two of them, John gently pushed the monitoring leads aside and crawled in next to Teyla. Hadn't Keller said that the best thing they could do was relax? Well, he knew he definitely felt more relaxed when he was in bed with Teyla and he was pretty sure the feeling was mutual. Encircling his arms around her, Teyla immediately snuggled against him and inhaled deeply. _Yep. Definitely mutual, _he thought as he kissed her forehead.

Lost in a world of their own making behind the partially closed curtains, where only the two of them existed, John startled when from behind him, Rodney broke his long, reined in muteness.

"Hey, you made it."

"Yeah," Ronon's low gruff voice answered. "How's he holding up?"

"Oh, he's a regular Superman," came McKay's trademarked sarcasm, sending chills of deja vu running down John's spine. The infirmary, Teyla in his arms in a bed too small for two. He already knew what came next. "He's gone and holed up with Lois Lane in their own private little Fortress of Solitude."

"...Fortress of Solitude..." John echoed in a hushed whisper.

"Whatever that means."

"Well, what you mean 'how's he holding up'?" Rodney continued. "How would you be?"

"What did Jennifer say about...?"

John replied, mouthing the somber response as it passed McKay's lips. "It's too soon to tell."

With the implications of this bearing down on him, he decided to put one more thing to the test. Before, at that point, he'd turned only to find an empty space, void of anyone who would've been speaking. This time, he rolled his neck to see his entire team a short, but respectful distance away. McKay holding up the wall as he'd been earlier, Ronon leaning against it, as well, and a sweaty Mason with his arm tied down.

"What took you guys so long, anyway?" McKay tacked on.

"I went for a run," Capshaw fielded seriously. "Wasn't wearing my radio. I was halfway across the city when Ronon caught up to me."

Ronon mumbled, the tension between the two men evident, "Had to have Banks track his transmitter."

"I already apologized. What more do you want from me?" Mason bristled.

"Start wearing your radio."

"Fine."

John heaved a sigh. "The family's all here," he breathed in Teyla's ear. Mom, Dad, and the three hot-tempered uncles, all worried that baby was going to make too early of an appearance.

"Yes," she murmured softly with a hitch in her voice.

"You okay?" he asked.

"It is another."

"Just keep breathing," he answered, running his hand over her stomach and massaging her over the hospital gown as he eyed the dripping IV bag. Hopefully, the worst was over and the contractions would let up soon.

Keeping her air moving in measured time, Teyla disclosed, "In the nursery, on top of the blankets, there are a few items of clothing for her I brought back with me from Lairius and we may contact my people for anything else we may need."

"We're not doing this tonight, Teyla. It's not happening," he told her.

"I was not ready for this, John," she said as the contraction began to dissipate. Tiredly, she added, "We have not even chosen a name for her yet."

He nuzzled her neck. "We will. We'll have the time."

"How can you be sure?"

"I don't know. I just am," he said and for the first time all evening, he actually believed it. "I know it like I knew the second I laid eyes on you..."

Teyla gave him a smile for the first time since she'd lain so bewitchingly on the beach. "What did you know?"

"I knew I was in serious trouble," he responded. "That if I wasn't really careful, you could break my heart into a thousand pieces."

"If I was so dangerous, why did you choose me to be a member of your team?"

John shrugged, "Couldn't help myself, I guess." And with a mischievous grin he added, "I couldn't let you start going off-world with anyone else, could I? Long missions...all that danger and adrenaline...it tends to get the blood pumping." He remembered very well the pounding of his heart, the smell of gunpowder still hanging fresh in the air and in such close proximity to her, he'd wanted nothing more than to rip her clothes off and take her, whether on a bed in a village somewhere or just on the forest floor. If only he'd known that she'd felt the same way, the last four-and-a-half years could have played out very differently.

Teyla chuckled, "Can you imagine if I had been asked to accompany Sgt. Bates' team instead?"

John narrowed his eyes at her, "I'd have shot him and taken you back for myself."

"Charming, John."

"That's assuming, of course, you didn't shoot him first."

With a perfectly straight face, Teyla said, "Very true. Though, perhaps, I would not have been so easy on him."

"That's my girl," John smiled as he saw a hint of fire returning to her eyes. She was a fighter and he was more certain than ever that their daughter wouldn't be born tonight. Her stunningly beautiful, strong-willed mother simply wouldn't allow it. With that weight slowly lifting, John cast a glance toward the waiting team members, milling around. With a smirk, he commented, "Besides, if we need them, we've already three names we could use in a pinch."

Intrigued at his attempt to lighten the mood, she raised her eyebrow and said, "Oh?"

"Sure. Ronon's been campaigning pretty hard for 'Ronon'." A smile broke out on Teyla's face. "And there's always 'Masy'. Or even better...'Meredith.'

"I do not know how Rodney would feel about that."

Using the same beaming expression he'd once used to declare proudly that he'd shot the cranky physicist in the leg, he said happily, "It'd kill him."


	21. A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

A quick note from ME...

Yes, I know this is not the new chapter some of you were hoping for and I am profoundly sorry for teasing you. I assure you it was not intentional. I simply thought that after such a long time with no update, the wonderful people that have been following this story deserved an explanation as to why.

For a long time now, I have felt very rundown, disconnected, and just unable to get my head into writing, among many other things in my life. It has been extremely frustrating to me and I'm sure, to my poor husband who has been watching me struggle and doing his best to help. I managed to keep putting out the chapters despite it (although I'm sure many of you have noticed the wait times getting longer and longer), but this chapter marked the point where I finally just couldn't do it anymore, even though I assure you, I _have_ been trying. I assumed that I was hitting some kind of writer's fatigue and in hopes of avoiding total burnout, I tried taking some downtime, but it didn't help.

Well, very recently, in a routine trip to the doctor's, I found out that the problem isn't all in my head like I thought, but an actual physical one. Fortunately, it's something minor and easily fixed. I am getting treatment and things are already starting to feel much more right to me. I have begun working on the next chapter again and I am hopeful that, with continued progress, I will be able to have something REAL for you to read soon-ish. Fingers crossed.

Thanks again for all the support that you've given me. It has not gone unnoted and is SO amazing to me.

Much love,

firedew


	22. Change

Author's Notes: Okay, all you amazing and extremely patient people, I'd like to introduce you to "The Chapter That Wouldn't." I just want to say a quick thank you for all the well wishes that were sent my way. It was incredibly humbling and so appreciated! A special thank you to **jeyla4ever**and **nacimynom** for holding my hand and giving me a pat on the head when I really needed it and to **jeyla, **thanks for the 'beta'. That said, any and all mistakes contained herein are entirely my bad. I hope you all enjoy.

**Chapter 21 – Change**

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"You didn't have to come with me. If you wanted to stay …"

Mason kept his eyes on the mostly empty corridor ahead. It was getting late. People all over the city were calling it a night and they'd spent the entire time in the infirmary trapped in a bizarre imitation of a 1950's waiting room. Rodney had his nervous ritual of shifting his attention between his coffee, his computer pad, and combing the latest issue of some scientific journal one apparently needed at least three doctorates to understand. Ronon tirelessly paced the infirmary floor while Mason inexorably stood sentry. For hours on end, he'd barely moved from the small section of wall he was occupying, his eyes trained on the floor, almost obsessively trying to focus on nothing. But, that's where the similarities ended. Not because of all the alien technology or even that their current residence was in a different galaxy altogether. None of the three men present were waiting to hear a tiny wail and those immortal words, "Congratulations, it's a …" They, in fact, were hoping for the opposite.

"Wouldn't have been very responsible of me, letting you face a potential hypoglycemic reaction all alone."

He couldn't see the scowl forming on Rodney's face, but Mason was pretty confident he was picturing it with reasonable accuracy. "Why does no one take this seriously? I'm telling you, I get all sweaty and shaky. It isn't pretty."

"With the way you eat, it's just hard to imagine low blood sugar ever being a problem for you, that's all." He quickly glanced at the scientist treading along beside him. "Besides, you didn't have to come with me, either."

"Yeah … well …"

Mason rolled his eyes. He couldn't have sounded more guilty if he'd stolen Woolsey's car. "Beckett put you up to it, didn't he?"

"Little bit, yeah."

_Should've known. _The second Carson had come over, he'd seen the disapproval at his own makeshift—and better—immobilization of his arm_. _"Next time Beckett thinks I need a babysitter, tell him to go for someone hotter."

The marine heard the telltale wheeze of a chuckle that Rodney was choking down as Mason quickly disposed of the smirk creeping up on him as well. The two men let the exchange die. Even that puny excuse for a joke seemed wrong under the circumstances and … if they had kept on, one or both of them might have wound up saying the one thing neither wanted to admit. They were glad to be out of there.

Well … at least they had a mission now. Standing aside and hoping to hear nothing, was driving them all nuts. On any other injury watch, the three teammates wouldn't have hesitated to surround the bed. The sterile confines of the infirmary would have filled with friendly chatter, sarcastic comments, and laughter, but this was different. There existed an unspoken boundary that no one dared cross. As close as they all were, Sheppard and Teyla were in a place all their own, someplace almost sacred where they couldn't follow. They needed each other above anything or anyone else, and they weren't about to infringe on that. It had been a relief when Beckett had finally concluded his dealings with the dead hybrid prisoner and set his sights on them.

They were headed to his quarters so he could put back on the proper sling he'd been given, then they planned on taking care of Rodney's stomach and it's idiosyncrasies, real or imagined. It was a job anyway. Mason could only count the floor tiles so many times and he didn't know how much longer he could pretend he wasn't noticing the way Ronon would look at Jennifer as she would pass by. He hit the transporter and with a push of a button on the citywide display, they were instantaneously taken to the sector of Atlantis designated for personnel quarters. Capshaw's quarters were close by, just at the end of the first hallway, but before he and Rodney even got that far, they heard raised voices echoing up from further down and around the corner. Mason picked up the pace, jogging toward the din with McKay following closely behind.

They couldn't tell who or what had started it, but a livid Sgt. Mehra was verbally flaying a quartet of off-duty SO's. Franks, Chapel, Davies, and Marquetti. _Great. _ They weren't bad guys. They'd earned their tickets to Atlantis like everyone else, but like a lot of guys, common sense tended to run thin when they ran in a pack. Sgt. Marquetti in particular, Mason knew from experience.

"...and you keep her name out of your mouth or I swear I'll find me a needle and thread and I'll sew it shut!" Amelia Banks had a firm grip on Dusty's forearm, beckoning her to leave before things escalated further, but the raven-haired she-devil was having none of it. Tony Marquetti, who topped out at slightly under six feet tall, was getting a face full of the shorter, but ferocious Mehra.

"What's going on here?" Mason broke in.

Dusty's head whipped around. "Assisted suicide."

"We were just trying to have a conversation," Cpl. Davies claimed.

"Yeah," Marquetti said, "We were only trying to say how sorry we were that Teyla went and offed that hybrid. Probably cost us any chance we had to nail his boss for killing Teldy and Vega. Who knew she'd overreact?"

"Oh, any old brain dead gorilla, I'd imagine," Rodney spat out.

Mason frowned. A decent poker face would've really been useful about now, but with his excitable disposition already stretched to its limits, McKay was showing more hostility and nerve than might prove healthy. He had to diffuse this situation before it blew up and clearly Rodney wasn't going to be any help. "Banks, get her out of here," he advised, "Before somebody calls security."

"We're already here," Chapel said. His smarmy grin served only to goad Dusty further. She looked ready to lunge.

Mason stepped directly into her path. "Let it go, Mehra!" The last thing they needed was somebody calling Lorne. After that, it was only a matter of time before Sheppard would have to be informed and there was no way he was going to let that happen.

Dusty stopped short of letting another sour retort fly. She glared daggers at him, but in the face of Capshaw's unflinching challenge, she spun and stalked away.

Amelia looked up at him, flushed in relief. As she slowly backed away, she said softly, "Thank you."

Thrown by the unexpected gesture, Mason hesitated before nodding. "Go on. I'll deal with this." He glanced beside her. "McKay, go with her."

"What?! I can't just..."

"Don't. Argue. Go babysit someone else for a few minutes." He wasn't going to take no for an answer and the scientist eventually seemed to get the message. When Capshaw felt they'd gone, he turned back around and meeting him head on, ready and waiting, was Marquetti. _Always the ring __leader. _"What the hell's the matter with you? She just lost her team."

The dark featured marine didn't flinch. "Exactly! I figured she, of all people, would understand."

"You spent too much time in the desert."

"You'd know. You spent just as much time in the sauna as I did." Marquetti's face was a caricature of nostalgia. "Chasing down insurgents with your Special Forces pals … and then, of course, you got new orders and disappeared."

Mason shrugged. "Well, Colorado was a lot closer to home and I figured space is cold, so..."

"Then, I show up here and you're too good to get together and talk about old times."

_Yeah, old times. _This guy and a different pack of cronies insinuate themselves at his team's table in the base's mess one night and he spends his downtime for the next four months watching Marquetti trying to pick up USO girls and listening to bad jokes. Loads of warm, fuzzy memories. "You were a jackass, then. You're a jackass, now."

Tony tipped his head. "Maybe. That never stopped us from having a few laughs, though. But then, you've been too good to talk to a lot of people."

With his free hand, Mason scratched at a phantom itch on his chest. His stormy blue eyes clouded over. "Things change."

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess so." Marquetti scrutinized him and said, "I heard you got hurt a while back. Pretty bad, right? Something like that's bound to screw with your head."

Mason didn't hear concern. He was being asked to choose a side. "Take my advice. Keep your thoughts to yourself. And if I were you, I'd give Mehra a pretty wide berth for a few days or next time, I'll _let _her kick your ass."

Mason made to leave when he was called back tauntingly. "I get it. I do. Gotta stick up for your team, right?"

"You never knew when to shut up."

"And I never pegged you to be okay with crap like that going down in the brig," Tony confronted him. "Right under Sheppard's nose—the guy who's _supposed_ to be looking out for us."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Ronon putting a _gun_ to Franks' head."

Mason ground his teeth and gazed at the lanky, young lieutenant who been hanging out quietly in the background, but was now afraid to look him in the eye. Even if Franks _had_ complained to a couple of his pals, which Capshaw doubted, he was too low on the food chain to ever say otherwise. Rounding again on Tony, he asked, "You were down there with him?"

Tony nodded.

"Well, I wouldn't get too excited about it. Ronon's had a gun to my head, too. It's not so bad."

"If Ronon were US military, he'd have been busted down and shipped out for pulling a stunt like that. But no one around here has ever been much for regs, have they?" Mason rolled his eyes. Sure, a part of him could see Marquetti's side of it. He remembered what it was like to be out of the loop and just trying to do a job, but that's where his sympathy ran dry. Before ever coming to Atlantis, the new recruits typically received an off-the-record warning that Sheppard ran a different ship than most. His unorthodox style of command was lauded by some and condemned by others, but no one could deny his success record. Most who transferred in got with the program once they got to know Pegasus, the city, and the people they were serving with. He had. Some never did. "People are dying out there, Capshaw," Tony went on. "Major Teldy and Captain Vega were just the tip of the iceberg and Teyla kills the only guy we got with key intel to offer. In custody. Using some freaky psychic powers nobody's bothered mentioning to us before. And when we try and put a stop to it, what do we get? A dressing down and a gun to the head!"

"What do you want, Tony? A court martial? Ronon doesn't exactly fall under the UCMJ and neither does Teyla. And in case you haven't noticed, this isn't Iraq and this isn't the SGC. Hell, this isn't even the Milky Way. Out here, sometimes we have to play by a different set of rules or we die. If you can't handle that, I suggest you put in for a transfer."

The agitated marine was in no mood for the semi-friendly advice. His head shook in derision. "Sheppard's a rogue who managed to stumble into a plum position. I'll grant you, he may have done a decent job getting this expedition through it's first year here, but he should've been relieved of his command a long time ago."

Mason's eyes narrowed, the gray storm clouds within turbulent. Tony may have thought he'd convince him to see things his way, but he had no idea how wrong he was. Col. Sheppard had gone to bat for him long after any other CO would've written him off. Teyla, he owed even more. More than he could ever hope to repay. She'd never held a grudge against him for his initial attitude toward her relationship with Col. Sheppard. She'd never been thrown by his aloofness or intimidated at his pain-fueled attempts to drive those he cared about away. And it was Teyla who, probably more than anyone, had helped him hang on when he felt his strength to keep going slipping. He didn't think she or anyone else would ever know how badly. _Except Jennifer. She knew._ The intermittent whimpers of Teyla's own pain filtering through the fabric curtain still raw inside and frustrated at being incapable of returning the favor, Mason's steel grip on his temper was bowing. Bitterly, he clung to sense. "Go home, Tony. Go back to Earth."

Marquetti's beaded black eyes pierced back at him. "You know something's wrong here just as much as I do. The colonel's lost his objectivity and he's lost sight of the mission."

"Sheppard, Teyla, Ronon … they belong here. You don't."

"He needs to put a leash on that junkyard dog of his, but he's too busy banging the local tail to notice!"

"Alright, THAT'S IT!" Rodney yelled from behind him. "Listen, you 'couldn't find my IQ if it was stamped on my forehead', Lou Ferrigno wannabe! Sheppard's saved our collective asses more times than an ignorant thug like you could count. And Teyla isn't just some …!"

"McKay!" Torn back from the brink of weighing the importance of keeping the peace versus the satisfying crack of a broken nose, Mason hissed but didn't dare take his eyes off Marquetti. "I thought I told you to stick with Mehra."

"Oh, come on! You might as well have asked me to play footsie with a pit viper. Besides, I couldn't leave you here with these four goons."

Mason's jaw tightened. Now wasn't the best time for Rodney to be shaking off the cobwebs of his nobler side. Marquetti could never claim an overabundance of class or smarts, but make no mistake, he was an attack dog on a hair trigger.

"Isn't that sweet?" Tony jeered. "You've got yourself a bodyguard, Capshaw."

"Ah, the quick-witted retort worthy of the average three-year-old. How refreshing."

Tony wolfishly turned on his teammate and tried to push his way past him. Mason shoved back with his left arm while the other strained, tugging viciously against the bandage crippling him. _And Beckett was worried the shoulder wasn't stable enough. _

"Why don't you leave the talking to the real men, McKay?"

"Intimidated? Between the four of you, you haven't got the brainpower to light a 100-watt light bulb."

"Rodney …" Capshaw tried again to warn him off.

"You're good with numbers, McKay. How'd you like to count your teeth?"

"My, isn't that original," Rodney fired back. "You might have gone with something less cliché like 'Hulk smash'. Bruce Banner, at least, was a nuclear physicist. What have you got? An advance degree in armpit scratching?"

_Shit. _

* * *

"Jennifer..."

Beneath her, Teyla tensed.

"Almost done, Teyla. Hang in there," Dr. Keller coaxed as her abdomen tightened around her. Lying carefully situated on her left side where Dr. Keller had recommended she stay, Teyla's leg was raised, her foot pressing squarely into Jennifer's shoulder as the doctor performed another internal exam. Though technically only in early labor, hours of battling contractions without an opportunity to truly recover from what had happened in the brig had left Teyla sore and spent. Dr. Keller could feel her trembling against her shoulder; not the pronounced shakes of a woman about to deliver, but the subtle tremors of one growing very weak. "Feel free to push on me if you need to."

"I got it, doc." Continuing to press, Jennifer glanced up. Situated at Teyla's back, Col. Sheppard scooted in further and began to massage her back while Teyla's hand rubbed along her taut stomach. Noticeably bothered by the examination process, John meticulously avoided looking in the doctor's direction, until he felt for himself the vibration of Teyla's overexerted body. Then, she couldn't have shaken his grim scrutiny if she'd wanted to. But instead of asking the question burning in his eyes, he rested his chin against her bronze hair. "You can do this, Teyla. Just a little bit longer."

As promised, Dr. Keller finished her check quickly, peeled off the latex glove, and tossed it into the wastebasket sitting just below the bed. Carefully, she helped Teyla in bringing her leg back to rest on the mattress and Col. Sheppard took over from there. One arm encircling her waist, he brought the other around and expertly flipped the blankets back into place. Once Teyla was safely tucked in, he wove his arms through hers and they rode out the rest of the contraction as one.

Jennifer busied herself studying the monitors at Teyla's bedside, but her vision kept getting drawn back to the couple. The two of them together … they were as natural as breathing. Where one left off, the other began. Two parts of a whole. She knew too well the problems they'd had in the past and could only imagine the hell they were going through now, but Jennifer still couldn't help the stirrings of envy in her heart. When the tension in Teyla's body finally melted away, Col. Sheppard relaxed his hold on her. Dr. Keller sat on the chair next to the bed, but before she could speak, he brushed aside Teyla's bangs in a barely-there sweep that demanded Jennifer pause to leave their brief respite unspoiled.

She cleared her throat. "Okay, Teyla. It looks like you're still holding steady at a three."

"So, what does that mean?" John asked, his intense gaze turning on her.

"It means we're still doing okay," Dr. Keller replied. She pointed toward the monitoring station. "It's been two hours since we upped Teyla's dosage and the last contraction was seventeen minutes ago, so they're spacing out." She looked back to Teyla, who was listening closely. "Stopping labor once it's started can be a long process, but I'm hopeful that we've managed to break up the momentum and things will get easier soon."

Teyla produced a shaky smile. "Thank you, Jennifer."

Dr. Keller met the flash of concern in John's eyes for her condition, but returned the smile. "You can thank me when you're headed home as big as when you came in. Now … how are feeling? Any nausea?"

Teyla shook her head.

"Is there anything you need? Can I get you another pillow or some more ice or …?"

Again, she shook her head. "I need only, as you said, to return home as I am now."

"Of course," the doctor said. She tried to sound as encouraging as possible. "You're doing beautifully, Teyla."

Teyla's eyes darted away from her. "You will forgive me if I do not agree."

"I'll be back to check on you again soon, okay? You should really try and get some rest while you can." Jennifer squeezed Teyla's hand.

When Jennifer stood up, she held out little hope that Teyla would take her advice. If the shoe was on the other foot, she might've done the same thing, not knowing what was going to happen to her child. Babies born at twenty-eight weeks had a good survival rate, but typically required monthsof intensive care after the birth. In the face of such a wrenching ordeal, Dr. Keller didn't think she'd be able to sleep either.

"Colonel, could I talk to you just for a minute?" Jennifer went ahead, pulling the curtain apart a few feet and waited outside for Col. Sheppard to join her. Ronon's ceaseless marching came to an abrupt halt at her appearance. He kept his distance, perhaps sensing that she wasn't quite finished, but the hulking warrior searched her face for some sign of news. For a few fleeting seconds, they were alone for the first time since their impromptu swim. Jennifer thought she could even still smell the briny scent of the sea in her hair. His well-muscled arms had been around her, his hot-blooded nature seeming to soak through his very pores blanketing her nearly naked skin, shielding her from the chill of the water. Yet, in spite of that, when the meager distance between the two of them had begun to dwindle, she'd started to shiver.

"Doc." Col. Sheppard approached her, his lips tight, but he kept his voice low enough to prevent them being overheard. "What's happening to her?"

"Colonel, she's in labor and she's exhausted. The rest we're still working on." She shook her head. The mystery of what caused this mess in the first place was one they had to solve. Even if they were to succeed in preventing a premature birth tonight, without a better idea of what happened, there was no way to know they wouldn't be back here tomorrow or the next day or next week. "Carson and I have a few theories."

"And?"

"And we need more information if we're going to make any sense of all this." She heaved a sigh. "Colonel, Teyla's brain is lit up like a Christmas tree. The level of synaptic activity happening is _well _beyond human norms. When we looked at your scans, the picture's pretty much identical, only not quite as widespread."

John's eyes narrowed. "What do you want to know?"

"You told us that you've been able to communicate directly to each other telepathically and somehow you were able to accelerate the healing process in recovering from your surgery. Is there _anything_ else you can think of that we might need to know about?"

"Well …" he considered, " … there was that thing on the planet. Teyla knew we were in trouble."

Jennifer nodded. "Carson thinks it may be a natural extension of your telepathic connection. You may have a link written right into the DNA you and Teyla share with the baby. If that's the case, you'd have a basic sense of each other no matter the distance, although I'm sure your ability to communicate would be hampered considerably. Under the circumstances, I wouldn't recommend Teyla try that again, though." She grimaced remembering how pale Teyla had looked, a precursor to her current condition. If only she'd pressed further for answers before. But then, she had a thought. "I'm curious, Colonel. Did it have the same effect on you?"

"I was fighting for my life, Doc."

"Of course you were, Colonel. I just meant … when Teyla sensed youwere in danger, she looked like she was about to pass out. And you told me that Teyla gets tired just about every time she taps into the baby's abilities. Is it the same for you?"

"Well … " he thought for a few moments. "At first, yeah. It was kind of like a getting caught in a wicked tailspin and an all-nighter in Vegas all jumbled up together, but …" He looked surprised. "… not anymore."

"At all?"

"No."

"But Teyla still does?"

He nodded. "Sometimes not as bad as others. Just talking to each other … it was getting easier all the time. It was really…" he paused, the subtle glint in his eyes giving way to sadness and regret, "Yeah, she still gets tired."

"Okay," she nodded. He was really beating himself up about this.

His brow wrinkled and he shifted his weight uncomfortably. "There's one other thing. I don't know if it means anything."

"Really, Colonel, the smallest detail might prove helpful."

After that he seemed to resign himself. "After the whole brain surgery business, I was here in the infirmary and I had this … dream. At least, I thought it was a dream. I heard a conversation. Voices, surround sound … I could have sworn it was real, but when I looked, no one was there."

"You were hallucinating while you were in recovery? Colonel, why didn't you say something?"

"Doc, I honestly thought it was a dream," he said in his defense. "And it was only the one time."

"So, what makes you think it wasn't?"

He pointed to where Ronon waited, watching them like a hawk. "Earlier, I overheard Rodney and Ronon having the exact same conversation. Exactly. Word for word. Sarcasm, Superman references, all there." While Jennifer absorbed what he was saying, John said, "You didn't see a … giant tumor … or anything in my head while you were checking out my scans?"

Jennifer almost smiled. "As always, Colonel, your scans made for interesting reading, but no. No tumors."

"Just thought I'd check." He glanced back to the curtain behind him. "Anyway, that's it. There's nothing else."

He was anxious to get back to Teyla. It was understandable and Jennifer didn't want to keep him. "Okay, Colonel. If you or Teyla need anything or if there's any change, Dr. Beckett and I will be…"

" … in your office. I know."

"And John?" He turned back around as he was already moving away. "It's going to be okay."

A stiff nod and he was gone.

Jennifer sighed. Trying to ease the weight Col. Sheppard was shouldering would take more than a verbal pat on the hand. The best thing she could do now was to get back to work. With a measure of improvement for Teyla and the baby, and armed with a little more information than before, Jennifer was ready to tackle another brainstorming session with Carson. But first, she had to talk to Ronon. He was waiting for her and she knew, if he had to, he would wait all night and into tomorrow. She just wished she had better news for him.

* * *

Mason had to give McKay credit. He saw the punch coming and faced it like a man. But fortunately for Rodney's face, Mason wasn't about to let Tony land one.

As Marquetti tried to swing around him, Mason used his shoulder like a battering ram, slamming into Tony's chest with an emphatic thud. His opponent staggering, he snaked his free hand around Tony's neck and directed the mouthy marine's head straight into the wall. While he was still stunned, Capshaw twisted Tony's elbow behind his back and used his body weight to pin him against the wall. A little to Mason's surprise, the maneuver came without thought, fluid enough to bring a smile to any drill sergeant in the service. Quick and efficient, thankfully, and exactly what he needed. Even at his healthiest, he wouldn't have wanted to take on four SO's one-handed and after being out of action for so long, his hand-to-hand skills were probably a little rustier than he'd like. The faster he could put a stop to all of this the better.

Marquetti raged against his grip.

"Don't." Mason rumbled, increasing the pressure exponentially.

"Ugghh!"

"Hold still or I'll separate your damn shoulder." Capshaw almost hoped he wouldn't.

Panting heavily, Tony stopped struggling. "I could report you for this, Capshaw. I could file an official complaint against you and your new friends."

"You could, but we both know you won't. You could go running straight to Woolsey or that glorified accountant the IOA is sending here, but sooner or later you'd have to explain your part in this. Attempted assault on a civilian. Getting your marbles handed to you by a guy with one good arm …," he rubbed it in. Mason redoubled the pressure on Tony's arm for emphasis, but a part of him reveled in the strangled yelp that followed. Tired to no end of having to keep it together all the time, it felt really good to be able to take out his frustrations—Teyla and Sheppard, Ronon, letting go of Jennifer and having to rebuild his life—on somebody else, someone he could put the screws to without the slightest attack of conscience. "And I'm sure they'll be standing in line to back you up when you explain how you were holding a stunner on a _pregnant woman_ who's in the infirmary right now, fighting to keep her baby."

"What the hell happened to you?" Marquetti asked angrily.

Mason growled in his ear. "You don't _ever_ want to know. Now, get lost."

Capshaw let him go and after a few tense moments, the group walked away. Mason exhaled and shook his head to himself.

Coming up beside him, Rodney said, "I could've taken him. I took a lesson with Ronon … once."

Mason casually glanced over at him. In defense of Sheppard and Teyla, he didn't doubt McKay would try. "Ever seen what happens to a Chihuahua when it tangles with a Doberman, Rodney?"

"I'm more of a cat person. But just to be clear … in this scenario, I would be the …"

"... Chihuahua."

Rodney shrugged. "I realize it's not so impressive if you think about it, but I could've introduced that guy to a world of hurt before he slammed my face into the floor."

Mason smirked. "Can we go now?"

"Yeah, sure," Rodney said. His eyes suddenly shifted. "Or maybe … maybe we should head back to the infirmary."

"I thought you were hungry," Mason said, confused. Rodney was more fidgety now than he had been staring into the face of a certain beating.

"I am. It's just … you're, uh …"

_Okay …_ "I'm what?"

He pointed toward Mason's shoulder. "You're bleeding."

Mason glanced downward. A patch of bright red was slowly forming, staining his white t-shirt. Rodney was babbling about the hero complex being the most prevalent infectious disease on the station and how he shouldn't have done what he did. He talked about possible internal damage and getting Beckett. Mason just let him go on. When he ran out of air, he'd explain that the surgical wound had already stopped bleeding. Most likely, he'd just blown a few stitches and he had the stuff to deal with it sitting in his quarters. Beckett's—and Jennifer's—focus was far better served taking care of Teyla. But for now, all Mason could do was watch, fascinated by the blissful lack of pain. _It's really working … _

Rodney stopped mid-sentence, looking utterly perturbed. "What on Earth are you smiling about?!"

* * *

As soon as she neared him, Jennifer knew his irascible Satedan temperament had been set ablaze. She could see it in his eyes and the way he carried himself. He'd practically been climbing the walls all night. She didn't blame him, but she also didn't know why she was surprised.

"How is she?" he asked.

"She's showing signs of improvement, but …" she said reluctantly, "… she's got a ways to go."

An angry huff came down Ronon's nose. "Keeping that thing alive was a mistake. I could've ended it on the planet. I could've stopped this."

"It was the right thing to do," she said. So often tonight, she'd wondered herself if they'd done the right thing, but Ronon wasn't arguing from the easy position of hindsight. When it came to anything the Wraith had touched—and to Ronon, Michael would always be a Wraith—his automatic response was to kill. It was instinct, primal and frighteningly aggressive. The way he moved, discounting any nagging pain from his bruised and battered muscles, his fists clenched, Jennifer knew that even if the hybrid had survived Teyla's assault, it wouldn't have lived much longer anyway. Ronon would have killed him. A part of him might have even enjoyed it. Knowing his tragic history, she tried to put herself in his shoes, but she didn't think she could ever truly understand that sort of drive in a person. "We could've given that man a chance at getting his life back," she maintained.

Ronon's mouth curled under the pressure of his stiff jaw. "That _thing_ wasn't a man anymore. It was too far gone."

"We'll never know now," she said, wondering as the words passed her lips if she shouldn't have left well enough alone.

"He was never going to be fixed. He wasn't like Halling, Jennifer. He was never going to be normal and nothing you did would've made a difference," he said. "Maybe you could've fixed his body, but his mind was broken."

"What makes you so sure?"

He shook his head, his eyes smoldering like burning coals. "There are things … They get embedded way down deep and fester. And it doesn't matter how much time passes or how far you run, you can't escape it and you don't get over it! There's no coming back."

Jennifer didn't know what to say that. All she could think of was the magnitude of the burden he still carried, even after all this time being free. Ronon identified with the hybrid as much as he hated him, both having been used as fodder to fulfill someone else's ends, their lives irreparably damaged by the Wraith. "What if it had been someone you knew down there? What if it had been you? Wouldn't you want us to try everything to save you? To bring you back?"

Ronon's dark brown eyes penetrated her. "If it was me, I would hope my _friends_ would care enough to kill me."

* * *

Watching John straightening the rumpled folds of his uniform, Teyla already felt far away. _He will welcome the chance to stretch his legs._ The muddled thought barely pierced the cloudy haze shrouding her. The curtain swayed hypnotically, her gaze becoming transfixed on the spot where he'd disappeared. Then, in the next instant, the small mattress was shifting as John settled back in behind her. With nothing more than a vague impression of John's conversation with the doctor, Teyla elevated her head realizing belatedly she had allowed it to droop.

"Save your strength, Teyla." It was the most soothing order that had ever come out of his mouth and one she was sorely tempted to follow. Absently, his middle finger was moving back and forth, tracing a nonsensical pattern on the back of her hand, lulling her further. In truth, she could already feel the strength of the contractions ebbing. A sharp pain still flared across her abdomen with each one, but it was a natural consequence of having her little used stomach muscles suddenly being pressed into intense service. It would go away in time, now that the labor pains were coming further and further apart. But in spite of that welcome change, she couldn't rest easy no matter how badly her body needed it.

"John?"

"Yeah?"

Teyla wanted to curl up into a protective ball, remembering those deranged yellow eyes holding nothing but darkness and swirling chaos. Even the furthest reaches of Borash's consciousness had been cracked and broken. Killing him had perhaps been a courtesy, but courtesy had been the farthest thing from her mind. In silencing the threats to her daughter's safety, Teyla had nearly brought about the very thing she feared most. "I never meant for this to happen. You must believe me."

"What are you talking about?"

"I lost control. I was careless. I did not consider …" She paused, trying to stave off the glassy sheen bubbling up over her heavy eyelids. "This is my fault."

His strong hand tightened around her upper arm, wanting her to turn far enough so he could see her. John Sheppard, commander of the military contingent of the great city of Atlantis, fierce friend, a good man and the father of her child, wanted her to look him in the eye and for the first time ever, she was afraid to. What she might see terrified her.

This was precisely what John had feared would happen when she had left the city with her people and they had fought so terribly. Afterward, she had spent many a night resenting him for his concerns and the wedge it had driven between them. After all, she was a proven warrior and a leader. Simply because she was carrying a life inside her did not mean she needed a man to shield her and hold her hand through each insignificant event of everyday life.

Teyla had no doubt her daughter's abilities would have manifested eventually and if John had not come for her, their child's life might have become the price of her stubborn refusal to give heed to his doubts. The Athosian's new home was too far away from the Stargate to request aid quickly. Teyla would have given birth without him, without the powerful medicines Atlantis had to offer and their little one might already have perished by the time help could arrive. John had behaved badly, but in the end, he had been right.

But when he gently tilted up her chin, what she saw was John's grizzled jaw set firm. "You didn't ask for this. There's no way you could've known this would happen. None of the little stuff we've done—_the three of us_—could've prepared us for this."

She shook her head, a stilted whisper passing her lips. "You do not understand."

"What don't I understand?" he asked. The obvious love in his voice made it that much harder to confess the rest of what was holding her mind hostage as her body was pleading for release. He pressed gently, "Tell me, Teyla. What is it?"

"My … abilities … are so much stronger than they once were. What I did, it was … easy." She glanced up at the bland ceiling hoping to find refuge, but she was soon drawn back to his concerned expression. "I cannot sense her, John. I do not know if she is alright. She is so small, so defenseless … what if, in my anger, I have somehow harmed her?"

"Oh, sweetie …" he murmured, half groaning. "You could never hurt our daughter. Not even on accident." He hugged her tightly. "I'm no scientist, but you probably can't feel her because you're too drained to sustain a connection. Give it time. It'll come back. And Keller says that all the scans say the same thing. Yeah, she's not ready to meet the world just yet, but for where she is … Teyla, she's _perfect._" John's lips brushed her hair. _Just like her mother._

Teyla closed her eyes at the splendid clarity of his voice resonating in the confines of her mind. She didn't believe any sound could be so wonderful. A relieved tear streaked down her cheek. Around his waist, her grip on John tightened, grasping for the man she cherished, holding onto the dream of the family they would still have because he _had_ come for her. He had answered the call of their two hearts aching for one another and because of him, their baby's chances of remaining where she belonged continued to grow. And through it all, even though the opportunities were there, John had not left her.

"Thank you, John."

"For what?"

"For being here."

John laid a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I couldn't be anywhere else."

The accusations she had flung at him echoed in her head, that fateful day when he had returned to her after being so painfully absent. _"__You are supposed to be the man I love. Someone who I can walk beside through the hard times, not someone who abandons me and his child when things are not easy!" _With one look, she knew that the man beside her now was not the same man she had walked beside on that chilly day. Any lingering fears she may have still harbored deep inside vanished. She knew with absolute certainty that John would sooner die than abandon her. And she would sooner die than let him go.

Another kiss to her forehead and a low, "I love you," granted her permission to finally surrender as she had been needing to so badly. She drifted off, trusting that he would watch over her when she could not. John would take care of them both.

* * *

As Teyla grew heavier against him, John allowed himself to breathe. Maybe the numbers said they had a ways to go before they were in the clear, but he'd much rather take his cues from her. In all the years he'd known her, worked beside her, he'd always appreciated who Teyla was, but tonight, he'd gotten a glimpse of a new side to her. For the first time, John had seen her as not just as a woman, but as a mother. Teyla had fought for their baby with grace in her every breath, never giving up. If she was starting to relax enough to be able to fall asleep at all, they must have finally turned a corner.

Craning over for a better view, he studied her flawless features, searching for any signs of discomfort and recalling the things she'd said. How could she think he blamed her for what happened when he'd actually been thinking he had never been more in love with her? Being proficient at the game of self-appointed guilt, he could understand the impulse to run over and over what could've been done differently. He could have put a bullet between the prisoner's eyes at the first threat and spared Teyla this ordeal, but he'd had a job to do. She didn't blame him for his inaction and it had shocked him to hear that she felt _she_ needed forgiveness from _him_.

Being that big a factor in someone else's happiness was relatively new to him. Typically, he was out the door long before his opinion carried much weight in a relationship. Even with his ex-wife, the issue was always _his_ career. Not being cut out for the task of sharing her husband with the military, the long absences had left Nancy feeling like he didn't care, that she was alone, and when he was home and the inevitable arguments would start, that was all she wanted to focus on. Not that he felt most alive when he was sitting in the pilot's seat, that his tenure with the Air Force gave him a sense of purpose, allowing him to make a difference and it was something he was truly good at. They were married, yet they were living separate lives, neither one being the high priority they should have been. Nancy meeting someone else had just been the final straw, and when the divorce papers had reached him, he hadn't been surprised.

But with Teyla, he knew he had the real thing, a partner who depended on him just as much as he depended on her, equals in every sense that mattered. John just hoped for Teyla's sake, he'd been able to say the right thing. He wanted her to know how much he loved her, respected her, and that in his book, there was nothing to forgive.

She seemed to be resting peacefully, giving John more confidence that the worst was over. The next contraction might bring her around again, but with any luck, it would be easy enough she could sleep through it.

His focus shifted toward Teyla's midsection. In a hushed voice, he said, "I know you probably can't hear me, not the way you normally can, but … you're gonna be alright, kiddo. Just sit tight in there for a little while longer." John knew it was probably a pointless gesture without an assist from Teyla, but he had to try anyway. _Mommy's got you and Daddy's here._ _I'm not going anywhere._

An ephemeral, warm touch nudged against his thoughts and John couldn't help the surge of astonishment and relief that rushed through him. He reached for Teyla's belly. "Yeah, you're just fine, aren't you?"

The next hour was everything John could have hoped for. Uneventful. He moved back to his vacant chair, wanting to give Teyla enough room to be comfortable and he kept an eye on the monitors hovering at the side of the bed. As her next contraction came and went, he watched with bated breath until it passed, Teyla never having been disturbed. And by the time Keller swung by for her half hourly check-in (on the dot as always), there hadn't been another one.

"How's our mom doing?" she asked, studying the readouts and clearly pleased at the current state of affairs.

John had said simply, "Not quite ready to be a mom, I think."

The doctor had only smiled and offered a few more encouraging words before leaving him alone with Teyla again.

The change in the air was almost tangible. Even Chewie had settled down and after a while, he ventured over, bringing an effective end to the imaginary wall keeping his friends at bay. They didn't say much. It wasn't necessary as Ronon dragged in a second chair. Setting it down backward, he straddled it and hunched over, making himself comfortable.

Another contraction came and went with even less fanfare than the last. Dr. Keller's next appearance was nearly as brief, but John didn't miss the intriguing looks passing between the pair of them and how Ronon suddenly seemed to be sitting a lot straighter. His curiosity piqued, John wondered what those two had gotten up to after the memorial service. Sheppard tilted his head at his teammate after she'd gone, putting to him a mute question. The equally wordless response was annoyingly vague, but short of making an old lady out of himself, John figured that was all the answer he was going to get. Regardless, it was fairly plain that Ronon had finally gotten off the bench.

Not long after, Rodney showed up with a mess hall tray tucked under his arm, but seeing that he and Ronon had closed ranks around Teyla, the food was all but forgotten. The high strung scientist unloaded a steady stream of anxious questions. "How is she? She's okay, isn't she? Carson said it would be fine if we took off for a little while. She didn't … did she? Because, I …"

"Relax, Rodney," Sheppard stopped him. "Teyla's doing fine and so is the baby."

"Really?"

"It's not quite over yet, but Keller seems to think we're getting on some pretty solid ground."

"Well … good. If Jennifer says …" Rodney stammered, gesturing awkwardly with his free hand. "... that's, that's good."

"Yeah," John replied. "So what's with the food, McKay? One dinner not enough for you anymore?"

Rodney startled. "Oh! No, I uh, brought this for you. I figured you might've … gotten hungry or … something." He offered the tray so swiftly that everything shifted, nearly dropping the sandwich, chips, and drink in his lap.

"Thanks, McKay," he said warily. "Are _you _okay?"

Rodney stood ramrod straight. "Of course, why wouldn't it be?"

"You just seem a little … tense. What took you so long, anyway?" Sheppard glanced at his watch. "Shouldn't have been any lines at this hour."

"No. We, uh … Mason and I, that is …"

John's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

"McKay …" John said expectantly. He was going to crack any second.

"He just doesn't want to tell you we raided the mess' storage," Capshaw said, swaggering up from behind. Noting Mason had not only put back on his sling, but changed his clothes as well, John saw that he also came with cargo in tow, holding a good-sized cardboard box in front of him.

"Yes. Yes, that's precisely it. The uh…"

An inconspicuous flash of blue silenced the flustered physicist. His range of motion hampered, Mason carefully set the box down on the rolling table near Teyla's bed. John quickly read the label on the side. "You stole a case of jello?"

"For Teyla," Rodney said. "The blue kind. It's my favorite and I know she … likes it, too. And the Daedalus will be here soon. No one will ever know it's missing."

John could feel a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Rodney still sounded like he was carrying around a lot of guilt for a guy who'd just stolen jello, but he decided to just play along. Whatever was going on, they were trying to do something nice for Teyla and as soon as she woke up, he was absolutely sure she would appreciate it.

"The SGC can take it out of my paycheck," Mason offered. Sheppard didn't doubt for a second he meant it, either. And if he wasn't too far off base, John was willing to bet "the heist" had been his idea from the start.

"Well …" John said, pretending to consider it. "What's a little petty larceny between friends?"

* * *

Not far from Jennifer's office, Ronon stood. _She left the door open._ It had been two hours since Teyla's last contraction. She was awake, alert, and best of all, smiling. A pair of jello cups had already been polished off, but Jennifer had left the door open. Just in case.

_She never quits._

She and Beckett were bouncing theories off one another, most of it using language Ronon was only marginally familiar with, still trying to make sense of what happened. Ancients. Wraith. It didn't mean much to him. Teyla and the baby were alright and the hybrid was dead. Beyond that, Ronon was happy to leave all the questions to someone else.

"It's the ATA gene. That's our x-factor," Jennifer said from inside.

Unseen, Ronon observed her working tirelessly, following her line of reasoning as Beckett's nodded along. Even though Teyla was in the clear, she wasn't slowing down. Jennifer gave her all to her patients. _That_ he knew firsthand. She was so open and at times, even defiant when it came to the people entrusted to her care, but when it came to … other things … she was so different.

Swathed in the murky depths of the Lantean ocean, her soft skin slid effortlessly against his. Stirred by—he didn't know—the chill of the water, his surprise she'd plunged in after him, being able to laugh in spite of the taste for revenge in his mouth that never seemed to go away, Ronon felt himself pulled toward her. His body was coming to life in long held, unbridled need. He wanted to give in to his desires, bury his hands in her hair, and drown himself in someone else. But as he leaned in, he noticed the uncertainty on her face. She was shaking.

It could have been the cold. Even running hot as his people did, he felt it too, but the other possibility halted him.

_"What is it?"_ she'd asked, her heart racing so fast he could feel it in his hands.

_"Nothing. We should go."_

She could have stopped him with a word, pulled him in, and they would have set about generating plenty of heat. But, she didn't.

When Carson passed by going in search of coffee, Ronon stepped forward and rapped lightly on the office door. Jennifer glanced up from the thick file planted in front of her.

"Ronon, hey," she greeted. "Is everything …?"

"Fine," he said. So many times before, he'd thought how much she reminded him of Melena. The gentle, willing temperament. Stubborn. Determined. But Melena had never met the man he had become. To say his years running from the Wraith hadn't changed him would have been a lie of the worst kind. What would she think of him now? "I just … wanted to say thank you. For what you did."

"I was just doing my job. Teyla did the hard part," she replied, a wan smile on her face.

Ronon shifted uncomfortably, remembering their conversation earlier, when he was barely in control of his unpredictable temper. He should apologize, but he couldn't. Not when all he was saying was the absolute truth. "You did good, Jennifer."

He turned to leave.

"Ronon?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we still on for sparring tomorrow afternoon?" she asked shyly.

He smiled. "Yeah."


	23. In Theory

Author's Notes: Thank you so, so much all those of you who sent in reviews and/or took the time to send me a PM. You're such amazing people and I wish I could think of another way to express my gratitude besides saying thank you for the millionth time, but I can't. Thank you!

It feels a little weird coming back to this fic after being away for a while and taking some time to do something a little smaller and not quite so demanding, but I guess it's time I got back on the horse. So, here I go! It's a shorter chapter (for me, anyway), but I thought after such a drought, you fabulous folks deserved an update. As a writer, I've been dreading this chapter for about … oh … 10 chapters now. I'm just going to duck and cover and pray it makes sense. *crosses fingers* I'm available for Q&A if I've completely lost you. lol And it goes without saying, I hope you enjoy and please, let me know what you think. I'm always interested!

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**Chapter 22 – In Theory**

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Teyla watched as John and Sgt. Capshaw sized one another up, each trying to assess whether the other was bluffing. Having folded in the last round, her cards were neatly stacked on the rolling tray table hovering over the bed, acting as their playing surface. And Rodney, though apparently quite busy working on his computer tablet, was not so preoccupied as he seemed. He continued to glance up to the game in progress, trying to predict the winner for himself.

Back and forth, in an effortless and steady rhythm, Teyla rubbed her rounded stomach which was comfortably insulated underneath her white hospital gown and the medium-weighted blanket. She leaned back against her pillow, relaxed and content to wait for an end to the stalemate. In the supportive company of those she considered family, she had need for little else and it was not as though she was going anywhere. For the time being, she remained in the infirmary for observation. Twenty-four hours had turned into forty-eight, all thankfully quiet, and Jennifer had spoken to her about being able to return home soon, but Teyla would simply be trading one bed for another.

_Bed rest._ Two words that, any other time, might have tested the limits of her patience. When recovering from injury, Teyla had proven better at hiding it than John or Ronon, never giving in to the outright rebellion they had grown infamous for, but she didn't feel the need to remain active any less keenly than they did. Hard work was as much a part of her as the deep brown of her eyes or the rich tones of her skin, but, for once, Teyla was ready to 'put up her feet and take it easy', as John would say.

"You've got nothing," Mason said, testing John, daring him to give away his strategy. To which John barely batted an eye.

"Keep talking. It won't change your cards."

Sitting closely on her right, John's gaze traveled down to where she instinctively stroked her midsection. She had been doing that a lot in the past days, she realized, but she couldn't help herself, needing a small touch here, another there, the reassurance of a tiny kick. Her friends came and went. Rodney had his duties to attend to. Mason had his physiotherapy. Ronon and Jennifer had taken several of their short breaks from the infirmary together. Only John had remained constant, watching her as she thirstily drank in each moment. He was the only one who understood, the only one who could.

Knowing her heart as he did, with an upturned tick of his cheek, John's large hand spanned hers, his grasp firm, yet unfailingly gentle. Without reservation, his thumb crossed in easy sweeps at her middle. For one thing in the previous two days Teyla was grateful. Somewhere in the middle of all this, they had truly become one.

Mason's lips curled at them. He exhaled as he tossed his cards onto the tray table. "Okay, Colonel. Take it."

John smirked at his teammate and looked back to where his hand lay. "My lucky charm."

Teyla smiled.

"I can't believe you caved. That was blatant manipulation," Rodney criticized Capshaw from his seat, though the remark lacked his usual bite. Not even the fractious Head of Science was immune from the general timbre of relief filling the space around them.

"Sue me," Mason stated across the bed as he was gathering up all the cards to be reshuffled. His sling was making movement awkward, but his dexterity didn't seem any the worse for wear.

Dr. McKay casually waved his hand. "For all you know, they're working together. Using their new superpowers."

"Hey," John protested. "I don't need a bag of tricks to beat him. Or _you_."

"You think so?" Rodney eagerly set his pad aside. "Because it'll take more than a sympathy play to sway me, my friend."

John's eyes narrowed playfully. "Bring it on, McKay."

His hand left her swollen belly and trailed down her forearm to squeeze her fingers, eliciting another smile. With the overriding concern about her condition, things had been very quiet lately with everyone walking on eggshells around them. Almost missing the familiar cadence of bickering, John's antagonistic, yet good-humored challenge brought about a much needed sense of normalcy.

"What do you think, Teyla? You up for a little ass kicking?"

"I believe I will sit out this hand and leave the 'ass kicking' to you, John."

He turned his full attention to her, his dark, beautiful features searching her face as he had many times recently. Softly, he asked, "You still feeling okay?"

Teyla gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. After all they'd been through, it would take some time before either of them could feel totally at ease again. "I am fine. I merely think it best to remain out of the line of fire."

Cautiously satisfied, John nodded.

With the three men centered in a virtual ring around her and the small table, Mason began dealing the cards. His eyes shifted briefly from what he was doing and settled on Teyla. "I thought Jen said you were getting discharged today."

"We are awaiting a few final test results from Drs. Keller and Beckett," she explained.

H/e bent his head knowingly. "It's funny how fast you can wind up in here, but getting out is never quite as simple."

"You know, I never understood why you guys are always in such a rush to leave. I sort of enjoy it here," Rodney commented, picking up his cards as they landed and meticulously placing them in order. Mason paused mid-toss and John's eyes zeroed in on him in an incredulous stare. "Would you stop looking at me like I'm the lunatic muttering to himself in the corner? I'm serious. Comfortable beds, meals get delivered directly to you, and if somebody shows up you don't want to talk to, you can pretend to be asleep."

"When was the last time you got hospitalized for anything worse than a jammed finger, McKay?" Mason asked, pitching another card his way. "Been a while?"

"Hey, don't underestimate how crippling a jammed finger can be in my profession. Makes typing excruciating. Really. You have no idea how much that hurts."

John's expression fell comically blank. Mason's cool demeanor went unfazed, but Teyla thought she could see the faintest traces of annoyance seeping into his jawline.

"I believe Mason may have _some_ idea, Rodney," she reminded him.

Realization slowly dawned. "Oh … you know I didn't mean … that is … okay, I know I'm not exactly a card-carrying member of the Invalid Club." He gestured toward her. "I mean, Teyla, you've got your … " Then, Mason. "And you, with the whole … and Sheppard had brain surgery. How am I supposed to compete with that?!"

"It is not a competition," she offered.

"Everything's a competition," he answered quickly.

"And impaled. Don't forget impaled," John goaded him further. Teyla sighed. He so loved to tease Rodney and there could be no doubt he had a particular gift for it. For his sake and for the worried creases that had lined his eyes for days that were, in part due to Rodney, now fading into the background, Teyla decided to let them be.

"That one doesn't count. _You _don't even remember that."

"I remember the hospital stay afterward. Headaches, blinding pain, stitches beyond count … " John added with an accusatory glare, "Impromptu pop quizzes. I swear to God, McKay, I've been through _interrogations_ with fewer questions."

Rodney scowled. "Fine. The point is, when you factor in the cave man, every single one of … " Suddenly, he started snapping his fingers toward Mason, his eyes alight with inspiration. "I've been shot before! Sheppard shot me and then, another time with an arrow. Right in the ass. Very painful." Rodney smiled. "See? I've paid my dues. I even still have the scar to prove it." He paused. "Well … I'm pretty sure I do. It's kind of hard to tell because of the whole … angle issue … "

An onerous frown descended on Mason's face as John bit his lip, already starting to shake with laughter. "Oh, Rodney," Teyla murmured to herself, shielding her eyes.

"But Katie says it … "

"Stop. Right. There," Mason said. The marine shook his head, nearly speechless. Finally, with a dramatic exhale and an expertly extinguished grin, he pointed a stern finger at Rodney. "_Never_ finish that story."

The sound of a polite "ahem" drew their attention toward the entrance of her room.

"Oh, thank God," Mason muttered.

"What?" Dr. McKay protested. John just clapped him on the shoulder and turned his attention to their guest.

Mr. Woolsey asked, "Have I come at a bad time? If I'm interrupting, I could come back later."

"Of course not, Mr. Woolsey. You are quite welcome," Teyla answered. With his busy schedule and after what happened, Teyla was surprised he would take the time to visit her in person, though judging from his demeanor, he didn't appear altogether certain he should have. Without knowing how much of their conversation he'd overheard, she found it hard to blame him.

"Just in time to save Rodney from himself," John said casually.

Richard took a few tentative steps inward and addressed Teyla. "Dr. Keller has been keeping me apprised of your condition, but she thought it best that any personal visits wait until you had more time to recuperate." Richard made a quick, studious scan of her companions. "She seemed to think that anyone venturing in before then might expect to find themselves walking into a lion's den rather than an infirmary."

A comprehending smile crept up on her. It was true her friends had proven … difficult … for the medical staff to work around, but their behavior had cooled as her status had continued to improve. "Not to worry, Mr. Woolsey. I believe it is relatively safe."

"They keep us pretty well fed in here," John quipped. "And the one you really have to watch out for is off sinking his teeth into a bunch of marines, anyway."

He nodded and responded wryly, "Good to know."

"Why don't you pull up a chair?" John said.

"I don't think that will be necessary, but thank you. I really only wanted to come down and pay my respects." He turned back to Teyla. "And, of course, to see you were doing better."

"I thank you for your concern, Mr. Woolsey. I am feeling well," she returned, touched by his sincerity, but somewhat troubled at the preoccupied frown he wore.

"Believe me, it's the least I can do and, please, take all the time you need. Your duties can certainly wait until you've sufficiently recovered."

"That is very considerate of you," Teyla smiled, observing him thoughtfully. He clearly had something on his mind, but seemed unwilling to make any sort of intrusion. She wondered if his reticence was due to the circumstances that had brought her here or if it simply stemmed from his feeling of being an outsider. "Are you certain you would not care to join us?"

Predictably, Richard only reiterated his earlier statement. "I really should be going." He looked like he was ready to take his leave, when he paused and pulled his already impeccably straight uniform straighter. "Colonel, when you have a minute, I was … hoping we could meet."

John raised his eyebrows curiously. "Once Keller gives us the 'all clear,' my plans are strictly to take Teyla home. What did you have in mind?"

Another thick pause settled inside the small room as Mr. Woolsey regarded her in careful consideration. Unless she was very much mistaken, she believed she heard next the sound of another eggshell cracking. "Do not delay your business on my account, Mr. Woolsey. Whatever it is you wish to discuss, I assure you, if it is of importance to Atlantis, it is of equal importance to me."

He pursed his lips.

"Probably best not to argue with the pregnant woman," John commented.

Richard still didn't move to take the empty chair vacated by Ronon, but he did finally acquiesce. "Okay, Colonel. Maj. Lorne has been doing an admirable job filling in for you, but there are a few areas that require your attention." He cast another uncertain glance to Teyla. "I thought it important that you and I get together to discuss our next move. Statistically, the more time that passes, the less likely we are to catch up to Michael and, as it is … we have little enough to go on."

John's reaction was so slight, no one but Teyla would ever have noticed. A momentary flash of his hazel eyes was the only outward sign of the sudden burst of paternal ire she felt emanating from him. Knowing the hardened planes of his body as well as she did her own, she saw him stiffen and reached a steadying hand to his forearm. John had made it very clear to her that he didn't blame her for acting as she had. He had admitted that had she waited thirty seconds more, he might have done the deed himself, but it still galled him to think of Michael on the loose, creating more and more of those hateful, unhinged creatures and having designs of his own for their unborn daughter.

"With no other leads at the moment, I'd start by seeing if we can't run down something on this plague," John finally said, his voice practiced and even. "If Michael is behind it, Beckett might have run into it while he was being held prisoner. Could be he can work up a cure and, in the meantime, we may be able to track down someone who knows something."

Mr. Woolsey nodded in agreement. "Of course, it's easy enough to send teams through the Gate, but we have yet to encounter a single world that's been infected. Everything we know about the plague is based on nothing more than speculation and rumor."

"We keep deploying teams with orders to keep their eyes and ears open," John stated, intermittently drumming his thumb on his pant leg near his knee, the miniscule physical activity helping him to set aside his anger and pinpoint his focus on his duty. "And we should probably start with the Kysonians. They're the ones who mentioned the plague to us in the first place."

"They didn't have anything more substantial to tell us than anyone else, Colonel," Richard mentioned.

"And they could wind up singing us the same song, but it won't hurt to ask," John said, his hazel eyes catching the light as they fell on her. "A lot of things can change in a few months."

Teyla produced a commiserating smile. How well did they know it. "If you plan on questioning the Kysonian people again, I would suggest taking Halling with you," she said. "Padrel and his people are kind enough, but gaining their trust takes time. An Athosian presence may help you immensely. My people have an established trade relationship with them going back two generations and, in our previous arrangement, we have proven to them that in working together we can be relied upon."

John and Mr. Woolsey traded approving glances. "We'll have Lorne make a run to Lairius tomorrow morning. See if Halling's got any big plans for this weekend. Anyway, it'd probably be a good idea to see if he can remember anything else on Michael's operation we can use to our advantage."

Mason, who had been attentive, but comfortably situated in his chair, sat up. "Sir? With your permission, I'd like to tag along with the Major."

Teyla studied him, having noted a distinct shift in his demeanor over the last few days. Sgt. Capshaw was still quite wary, akin to a young child dipping a toe into water for the first time, but she could also see within him a fire under pressure, eager to be set free and burn. In making his request, he appeared almost hopeful. Teyla could only think of one reason why.

John must have, as well. "It's just a short trip. A couple of hours at the most," he warned.

"I understand that, sir."

After a moment's consideration, John nodded. "You get Carson to sign off on it and you're good to go."

Mason tipped his head in return. "Thank you, Colonel."

John and Richard continued talking. Beyond Mr. Woolsey, Teyla spied Jennifer and Carson quietly conferring with one another as they padded slowly toward the open doorway. She adjusted herself within the sheets, feeling her heart quicken slightly. Something hidden beneath the professional veneer they wore made her uneasy.

" … checking in with our other offworld contacts," John said, his gaze tracking hers toward the doctors closing in. His jaw tightened as he cleared his throat and continued. "And in the meantime, Beckett's been setting up clinics all over the place. I'd recommend sending him and Keller out to get the lay of the land. The locals will probably be a little more forthcoming to them than they'd be to a bunch of armed soldiers anyway."

"Good idea," Mr. Woolsey said, preparing to take his leave. "I will see to informing Maj. Lorne and I'll let you know when we're ready to proceed."

Jennifer and Carson saw themselves in and with their entrance, Teyla's nagging sense of foreboding only grew. John's expression darkened, mirroring her own. On his guard, his voice lowered. "It's about time."

"Sorry, Colonel," Dr. Keller said. "We had some last minute details we had to go over before we wanted to … "

Dr. Beckett, never anything but genuine and caring, tried his best to diffuse the mounting tension. "How are ya feeling, luv?"

He had little idea how loaded a question that was. It wasn't often Teyla found her emotions skimming so close to the surface. Two days of heartache, turmoil, and the elation that followed, having her family's future pulled back from the brink, had her tiptoeing across a thin line. Unable to keep herself as composed as she would have ordinarily been able, her hand curled protectively around her stomach as she demanded, "What is wrong?"

The two doctors exchanged a serious glance and Jennifer exhaled heavily. "We need to talk."

.

* * *

.

For an exaggerated, agonizing instant, no one moved. No protests or exclamations, not even from Rodney. Even the sound of breathing was all but absent and John was left with only the loud whooshing sound of his blood rushing in his ears and a subdued echo of Teyla springing to life in the background of his mind. Since regaining her abilities, in the absence of answers, she had been very careful to avoid actively using them, but every once in a while, a small touch of her managed to slip through and he could feel traces of her thoughts and fears merging with his.

Experience told him this was about the time that visitors either left on their own, not wanting to be a part of what was about to go down, or were asked to leave while the doctors delivered the bad news. _Teyla was just fine. The baby was just fine. He could take them both home and do his best to help Teyla forget any of this ever happened._ That's all John wanted to hear. He was man enough to admit it probably wasn't the healthiest approach, but he always thought there was something to be said for a decent case of denial. He would entertain anything as long as he didn't have to hear something was wrong with Teyla or his child. His little girl. That they hadn't just gone through hell only to come out on the other side to get clobbered.

John was relieved when Keller didn't ask anyone to go.

Mason got to his feet, wordlessly offering her his chair just to Teyla's left and directly across from John, then found an empty spot next to Mr. Woolsey and Carson. Jennifer settled into place easily enough. Capshaw had probably logged more than enough hours in the infirmary to figure out that unlike a lot of doctors, she seemed to prefer to sit and talk with her patients, rather than lord over them like some demigod handing down judgment. Especially when the anxious patient in question was also her closest friend.

"Let me just start by saying that, as far as we can tell, the baby is perfectly healthy," Jennifer told Teyla, her tone denoting nothing but genuine caring. "Her vitals have been consistently strong and steady, and now that you've stabilized, there is no reason to think they won't stay that way."

"But you know what happened to her, don't you?" It took John a few seconds to recognize that the hoarse question had emerged from his own lips.

"We think so," Jennifer confirmed on her behalf as well as Carson's. "I wish we could say we were a hundred percent sure, but out here it seems like certainties are hard to come by."

The strain he was feeling tugged at his temples. "Okay."

He stole a long look at Teyla, lying in the bed by his side. Even in the stark white of her hospital gown and hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever known. His missing piece. In so many ways, the _best_ part of him.

The warmth of Teyla's fingers trailed along his arm, reaching for his hand. He grasped onto her, knowing what she meant to say. No matter what followed, they would weather it together.

"We understand," she answered softly.

Jennifer proceeded cautiously. "Alright, well … this could be hard to explain. The mental capabilities of the Wraith and the Ancients seem to have their own special place somewhere between the physical and the metaphysical. Trying to quantify them is … like playing a game of theoretical darts. Then, when you throw in a mixture of the two, it gets really … "

" … complicated," John finished for her.

"To say the least."

Carson stepped forward. "Your Wraith DNA makes you a extremely rare creature, Teyla. But for a few of your fellow Athosians, we've never managed ta find any other humans carrying the trait. And even though the Ancients settled on Earth and did a certain amount of intermingling with the population, a natural expression of the ATA is also quite a difficult thing ta find, particularly one of the strength o' Col. Sheppard's. The odds of a person carrying the ATA gene and another person carrying the Wraith gene even finding one another are too astronomical ta figure." He added with a wink, "Believe me, I tried and it gave me a headache."

For all the scrapes Beckett had pulled them through over the years, John already owed the man a lot, but he would forever be grateful to him for the smile he brought to Teyla's face.

The big-hearted Scot was just as happy to see it. "Suffice it say, Teyla, that wee one you're carrying is nothing short of a miracle. I don't know that the galaxy or perhaps even the universe will ever see the like o' her again." He crossed his arms over his chest and his awe grew more serious. "However, it does present us with a unique problem. With the baby possessing both the Wraith and Ancient genetic sequences, the residual effects were bound to be … a mite unpredictable."

"We started by compiling every scrap of data we have on both sides of the baby's genetic profile and comparing it to what we know so far about the abilities that have surfaced," Jennifer explained. "The Wraith, for example, we know have the ability to enter the minds of others, manipulate them to see things that aren't there, give up information they ordinarily wouldn't, force their subjects to kneel and perform other tasks against their will … " She looked to John, probably realizing he didn't the big rundown on Wraith mind attacks, having been repeatedly questioned by Wraith queens in the past.

"My child possesses the abilities of the Wraith," Teyla said calmly, detached.

Dr. Keller nodded. "Some, at least."

"Many," she corrected the doctor, her knowledge of both the Wraith and her daughter more intimate than Keller's, Beckett's, or anyone else's could ever be.

Near the doorway, unassuming and patient, Mr. Woolsey asked, "Dr. Beckett, you were the one who performed the autopsy on the hybrid. What was the cause of death?"

Reluctantly, Carson informed him, "Massive cerebral hemorrhaging."

"And that would be something you perceive as being within the capabilities of a Wraith Queen?"

The doctor nodded. "Aye."

John's jaw clenched. He didn't want Teyla getting upset again over what had happened in the holding cells. Whichever side of the family tree killed the hybrid prisoner, stress was the last thing on Teyla's menu for the time being.

Sensing the topic shifting, Jennifer quickly steered it back, trying to keep it as brief and painless as possible. "On the flip side, from what you told me the other day, Colonel, and the other reports we've gathered since, it was fairly obvious that we've got some Ancient traits on display, as well. Between SGC records, Rodney's encounter with the ascension machine … "

To his right, McKay abruptly froze. John bet that brought back a few memories, having his own set of superpowers that nearly killed him.

" ... and your own encounter with the people living in the Sanctuary … " Jennifer motioned to him.

_Speaking of memories, _John thought chagrined, shifting awkwardly in his seat. Having Teer brought to mind with a very pregnant Teyla in the bed right next to him was probably the weirdest feeling_ ever_. Probably the only thing that could top it would be his ex-wife showing up for coffee and a chat.

" … there's a pretty lengthy list of documented abilities from those possessing the ATA gene as they evolved closer to ascension. Enhanced hearing, telepathy, telekinesis, healing, precognition, increased intelligence … " Jennifer listed off.

"Obviously, not _all_ of them are active and running loose around Atlantis," Rodney replied smugly. "I haven't seen Sheppard down in my lab inventing any new math lately."

"Shut up, Rodney," John scowled.

Carson rolled his eyes. "The baby has undoubtedly inherited certain traits based on the inclination of her_ parents_ and random groupings in her gene pool_,_ just as she would her eye color or her cheekbones. Although Col. Sheppard's abilities remained dormant until very recently, it occurred to me he's shown a certain affinity for a few. His recovery times in the infirmary have always been on the quicker end of the spectrum and his uncanny instincts in heightened situations might suggest a latent proclivity toward foresight."

John shook his head. _This sounds completely insane._

"Is it just me or does this sound completely insane?" Rodney asked.

He spun around to look at McKay. "Did you just … ?"

"What?"

His face stuck in a quizzical, sideways grimace, John chalked it up as having spent _way_ too much time around McKay. "Nevermind."

"Wait, wait, wait. Go back a second," Mason finally spoke up. "You said 'as they evolved closer to ascension'. So … what? Baby Sheppard's just a hop, skip, and a jump away from a higher plane of existence?"

"Not at all," Jennifer responded. "From what we can gather from our tests, the baby's vital signs are entirely consistent with that of any other at her current stage of development. She's a perfectly normal little baby."

"Are we grading on a curve, now?" Rodney commented. At Teyla's stricken expression and not at all in the mood himself, John cuffed him across the back of his head. "Ow!"

"Knock it off."

"I was just trying to point out … "

"Don't."

Rodney's mouth coiled tight, chewing on his words like a sliver stuck between two molars. John knew that look. He was going to open his big mouth again, sooner or later. He couldn't help himself.

Needing more, Teyla ignored him. "How is it possible that if she is perfectly normal, as you say, she is capable of so much? How is it she has had such a profound effect on John and me?"

Jennifer's mouth quirked upward. "Okay, maybe _perfectly _normal isn't quite the right way to put it, but she is as human as you are. As for the rest … " Her tongue briefly reached for daylight, grazing over her lips as she composed her thoughts. "If you were to take a strand of Wraith DNA and Ancient DNA, lay them next to each other, and compare them under a microscope, they are actually astonishingly similar in a lot of ways. They even complement each other in a few. Where the ATA gene is mostly only accessible when the physiology reaches a certain level, the Wraith side is much more aggressive, making up the difference. It acts like … a skeleton key of sorts. Those particular sequences in … " She smiled at Mason's earlier reference to their daughter. " … Baby Sheppard's make-up have been unlocked by her Wraith half. It's more than likely also the reason Col. Sheppard's abilities have been brought to the forefront and, in your case, Teyla, enhanced. She's able to open the door."

"Well, that explains that," John muttered, reaching for Teyla and cupping her cheek, threading his fingers into the hair at the base of her neck. She leaned in and took a deep breath. As much as they used to wish to keep this between themselves, it was a relief to have some answers.

Trying to absorb everything that was coming at him, John's gaze roamed. While Capshaw seemed mildly impressed with the whole thing, Mr. Woolsey's pensive frown bothered John more than it should have. And Rodney was still gnawing on something.

"So, what happened?" he blurted out.

John glared at him in annoyance. He realized they still didn't know what went wrong to land Teyla and his child in the infirmary. It was an ominous cloud that had been hanging over their heads for two straight days, but Rodney couldn't even give them a minute in peace. "McKay … "

He threw up his hands. "I know, I know! You can call me arrogant, pushy, and insensitive all you want. You can have Ronon hogtie me and lock me in a closet somewhere later, but something else is going on here or Teyla wouldn't be in that bed, and I want to know what happened just as much as you do."

Teyla's voice, quiet and on edge, stopped him. "John, please … " She tipped her head back toward Jennifer, her eyes tracing the ceiling and her hand flitting over her stomach along the way. "What is it? What did you find?"

"It's going to be okay, Teyla," Keller said quickly. "I promise. But … "

Carson spoke up. "As much as it pains us all ta hear it, Rodney is correct. We did find a problem. While, it's true that the Wraith and ATA genes have several base pairs that seem ta be working together, there are others that are clashing on a very primitive, very basic level. Physiologically, they appear to be incompatible."

"I do not understand. You told me … " Teyla's voice caught mid-sentence, " … she was fine."

Jennifer straightened in her chair and gently rubbed Teyla's shoulder. "Teyla, she is. Your daughter is fine. She really shouldn't be, but she is. We can't explain it. We could probably have a team of genetic specialists working on it for a year and never find a definitive answer as to why, but the baby is fine. It's _you_ we're worried about." Jennifer's eyes grew concerned and she released a heavy sigh. "There's really no good way to say this. Teyla, we think your Wraith DNA has marked the baby's ATA gene as foreign genetic material. Your going into premature labor … was an acute sign of rejection."

John absorbed what felt exactly like a kick to the gut, while Teyla's face remained heartbreakingly stoic. When he'd recovered his ability to breathe, he saw her trying desperately to shield herself behind her walls and pulled her into him. She buried herself in the crook of his neck, never making a sound, but a muffled sob hit his ears nonetheless.

His throat suddenly felt like lead. "How did this happen?"

Teyla turned her face outward, but remained within the comfort of his embrace. Jennifer looked at them with deep regret.

"Colonel, it's likely it's been happening since the beginning of Teyla's pregnancy," Carson said. "The early months of fetal development are the most important. The baby's body, vital functions … all the major organ systems are being built. The human body is highly adaptable and, somehow, Teyla was able ta make it through the hard part without losing the fetus … "

"You think this is why Teyla was so sick. Why she … " John bit his lip, wanting with every fiber of his being to forget the sight of Teyla falling down the stairs of the control tower, her prone body at the bottom limp and unresponsive. John didn't know what to think anymore. She could have lost the baby back then, but wouldn't have needed a fall to do it. She went through all that because of his little genetic contribution. Because he fathered her baby.

"Don't," she whispered, her fingers running the length of his collar, pulling him in closer. Teyla squeezed him tightly, her lips pressed against the forty-eight plus hours of growth along his jawline. "Do not think that way. It is not your fault."

The salt of tears stung his eyes and he slammed them shut.

Keller and Beckett left them to each other, giving them a few precious minutes where John and Teyla could shut them all out, to console and commiserate with the one they loved. Those present would never know what words passed between them or what feelings they shared, they only knew what they had always known. Separately, they were formidable, but John and Teyla were far stronger together than they were apart. They had something special, to be envied and respected. Something that poets and composers only dreamed of capturing into verse. Something beyond circumstance, time, and distance. Eternal.

When they finally parted, John's hand swept across the silky skin of Teyla's cheek, the intimate promise of a kiss in his touch. Ready to face whatever came next, John scanned the room and caught Rodney examining a particular spot on the floor with unusual fascination. Jennifer suspiciously rubbed at the corner of her eye, while Mason … John shook his head knowingly. The latest edition to his adopted family had a look John used to wear himself, one of longing deprived and love denied. With eyes only for the attractive doc, John hoped for his sake things would work out for the best. The alternative, he knew, was a pain the beleaguered sergeant had no remedy for and to live with it was unthinkable.

"Let's finish this," he finally said into the vacuum of sound, keeping Teyla as near as he could.

"Are ya certain?" Carson checked as the others snapped back to attention.

"Yes," Teyla replied next to him. They were both ready.

Between the two of them, Keller and Beckett covered the rest of the story. Teyla's body managed to adjust after the hormones and intense construction phase of her first trimester eased off, allowing her to finally carry their child comfortably. Then, when the baby's abilities began to manifest, the ATA gene was making alterations to her own physiology that her Wraith side couldn't tolerate. Her exhaustion after each attempt was explained, the strain on her body a continual war between two opposing factions. John's own initial exhaustion was a consequence of the synapses of his brain getting activated, but once that process was finished, genetically predisposed to these changes as a natural ATA carrier, his experiences of mind-numbing tiredness ceased. He wished it could have been the same for Teyla, but for her, it never ended. Attacking the hybrid had only been the straw that broke the camel's back. Not killing him, but picking him up and throwing him against the grid. The telekinesis of the Ancients flooded her body, overwhelming her system and in the interest of self-preservation, drove the Wraith inside of her to expel of the source of the alien gene.

"You believe the baby will be safe, so long as I am careful," Teyla surmised.

Jennifer nodded. "No more interplanetary S.O.S.'s. No more hybrids. And until I'm satisfied your body can handle it, I would advise keeping the telepathic communications to a minimum. I know you said you can't always control it, but … try your best."

"Can she go home, Doc?" John asked.

"Yeah." Dr. Keller took Teyla's hand. "Straight to bed. Stay off your feet, the only exception for now being the occasional side trip to the bathroom. And we'll take it a little at a time." She smiled sweetly. "Somehow, I have a feeling you'll be back to normal before you know it and when your due date rolls around, you'll have yourselves the cutest little girl Atlantis has ever seen."

"Not if she's winds up with Sheppard's hair." Rodney snorted.

A thunk sounded beneath the bed.

"Ow!"


	24. Raising the Stakes

**Author's Notes:** I know it may seem insane, given the word count on this posting, but believe it or not, this is only a FRACTION of what I was hoping to include in this chapter. Hmmm … not entirely sure what that says about me. Overly ambitious? Foolhardy? Either way, this isn't exactly the picture I wanted to present to you, but what _is_ here, I'm pretty happy with.

As ever, I'm hoping you enjoy, hoping you'll let me know your thoughts, and in return, I offer you my solemn promise that you will see the rest of it as soon as it decides to come out of hiding.

.

**Chapter 23 – Raising the Stakes**

.

As the light of the fading sun streamed in through the windows, bathing the room in red and casting its diminishing beams across her face, Teyla stirred. Her eyes opened swiftly, absent the pleasant fog that usually accompanied waking, completely unaware of ever having drifted off in the first place. She glanced around the room, taking in her surroundings as the warm familiarity of her own bed still sang the comforting lullaby that must have earlier drawn her in. The last thing she remembered was John disappearing into the kitchen to make her some tea, a metallic clang, and the sound of running water.

Her eyes lifted toward the nightstand as she shifted her elbow beneath her. A black mug rested among her other things near the edge, filled almost to the top, but its contents had long ago gone cold.

"J—" she began as she twisted her hips, rolling her ungainly figure to face the open doorway. The quiet, half-formed call died as it passed her lips, a serene smile taking its place.

Beside her, sitting up against the headboard, his head slumped forward while his legs were restfully stretched out across the bed, John was asleep. His beloved hand-held video golf game lay haphazardly beside his hip. It remained on, yet long forgotten as a muted rumble from John's throat passed into the stillness of the evening. Carefully reaching to flip off the power switch, Teyla supposed it wasn't much of a surprise that they had both succumbed to sleep. The last few days had been trying to say the least.

He had been quiet most of the way to their quarters. At her back as he wheeled her away from the infirmary, Teyla could imagine that he was preoccupied in much the same way as she—reevaluating the past with new eyes, weighing what her condition meant for the remainder of her pregnancy and for the safety of her child, considering the potential consequences they might yet face in the future. By the time Teyla had been carefully situated into the wheelchair and given her final instructions by Jennifer, her emotions were tumbling over one another in an ever-revolving heap. She leaned on the arm rest, her fingers curling naturally and falling over her eyes as she was carried down the long hallways of Atlantis. Though she had been in recovery for two days already, she still felt used, weary, and … overwhelmed.

Upon reaching their quarters, she had fully expected John would waste no time in wheeling her directly to the bedroom, where all that remained would be the simple matter of moving her from the chair to the bed. Quickly and efficiently, of course, as was probably best. After all they had been through, she could have expected no less. To deny that part of himself that longed to protect her would be to deny he was the man she loved. That said, no one was more surprised than she was when he stopped short, just outside the doors.

He came around to the front of her chair, squatted down, and pulled the releases that would allow him to push her foot rests to the side.

"John, what are you doing?" she asked, a husky quality to her voice revealing how worn she felt. Perhaps, she realized in retrospect, she hadbeen more tired than she had originally thought.

"In my official capacity as Roommate, Daddy, and ranking CO on this base, I'm invoking my right to take care of you any way I see fit." His hazel eyes drifted up, focused and determined despite the veritable tornado of thought swirling behind them. Rising, his left arm looped beneath her knees while his right went into the curve of her back, encouraging her body forward. Teyla wrapped her arms around his neck as he scooped her up. "And right now, _I_ am taking you to bed."

She smiled sweetly at the romantic gesture. "I was not aware my presence in our bedroom had become a matter of military concern."

His gaze narrowed. "Humor me."

She did. Gladly. Rarely had she felt more secure than she did held tightly in his grasp, surrounded by the strength and pure essence of him as he carried her across the threshold and home.

He maneuvered slowly through their quarters and took great care when it came time to release her onto the bed, lingering longer than was necessary to make certain she wasn't jostled or jarred in any way. Dr. Keller was disinclined to think that something so simple as a false movement would spark a relapse, but John was obviously unwilling to take any chances. Before returning home, they had also been advised that should she begin experiencing labor pains once again, given how close they had already come to a premature birth, it was unlikely they would be able to stop it.

As soon as she was settled in and he'd made certain she was sufficiently comfortable, John straightened. "Now, for the time being, you're gonna be cooped up in here and you can't exactly spend all your time meditating, so I am also appointing myself your entertainment director. Anything you want, anything you need, I'm your guy." His every movement restless, he cast a thumb over his shoulder in an offhand manner. "I can grab your sewing stuff and I'm going to get the TV hooked up in here so you can watch some movies, and I can … "

At the time, nothing had sounded more appealing than some peace and quiet.

"I think I will be fine for the time being," she'd responded, but John continued as though he hadn't heard her. Teyla didn't think he was aware of it, but he had begun pacing, his hand skating repeatedly across the scruff of his neck.

" Well, as soon as the Daedalus gets here with our stuff, I'm gonna get the crib set up and the nursery all squared away for when the baby comes. I won't be able to be here all the time, but until you're cleared to be up and around again, we can make sure that somebody's around just in case … "

"John … "

" … and I'm always just a radio call away. But if for any reason you can't reach me, call Ronon. He can get you and make sure … "

"_John._" He stopped abruptly and Teyla offered him a smile meant to soothe. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, Teyla. Just tell me … anything you want."

Hours later—apparently, as she had no real notion what time it was—Teyla watched him sleeping. The day's revelations had been hard on him. On them both, truly. What amounted to an accident of biology had put her and her child's life at risk, and had set them both reeling, questioning everything they thought they had known. But while Teyla believed the greater part of her could learn to accept that her body's aversion to the Ancient gene her baby carried was a problem of natural origin and beyond her ability to predict or control, John, she knew, had taken it far more personally.

It had taken some persuading, but she finally convinced him to sit down with her for a few minutes. His disquiet was still crystal clear as his gaze darted from one thing to another, visibly searching for a distraction from the thoughts still simmering nearer to the surface than he was comfortable with. Finally, he'd reached across her to her nightstand and grabbed her book.

"This was part of your poker winnings at the last game, right?" he asked, absently thumbing through the pages.

She nodded. Mired in the turbulent events since, the game seemed to her a distant memory. "I have been meaning to read it, though perhaps it is fortunate that I have not. It seems I have more than enough time to spare now."

John flipped to the first page and read aloud, "'It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.'" He paused, his expression wrinkling into a charming visage of distrust as he closed the book and studied its cover. "Okay, scratch that idea."

"Is something wrong?"

"This is a chick book."

"I am told it is wonderful," she commented curiously.

"You can stick a bunch of hot women in corsets and dial back the language a couple hundred years, but what you've got there is still a chick book," he claimed before handing it back to her. "There's not even a decent sword fight in that thing. No dueling pistols at dawn. Nothing."

Teyla glanced down at the book. "How could you know such a thing if you have not read it?"

"Saw the movie. Just another page in the 'what John Sheppard did to impress a girl' book of experiences never to be repeated."

"I take it the girl was not impressed?"

His lips did a sheepish little dance. "That I fell asleep halfway through it? Not really."

Teyla had smiled at that. She had grown oddly fond of John's intermittent! snoring. It had taken its place among her favorite sounds of night such as the crickets in the forest or the sound of the wind on faraway leaves. Almost a kind of music all its own. But she could imagine it would be quite disconcerting to a woman he was only newly courting. "I see."

"In my defense, it was five_ hours_ long."

"Though apparently not for you," she said pointedly.

He'd accepted the lighthearted teasing readily enough, granting her the fetching smirk she had rightfully earned. "You think it's so easy staying awake for a movie that long, maybe we should put you to the test. I'm sure there's a copy of the DVD floating around the city somewhere. We'll see who nods off first."

"I thought watching this movie was an 'experience never to be repeated'."

"Well, a real man never turns down the chance to score points with his girl," he said, the sincere expression on his face belying his flippant tone. She smiled as he squeezed her arm and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.

"A noble sacrifice, John," she stated softly, though she worried at the idea he felt he needed to score points with her.

"Just as long as you don't hold it against me if I go down first."

She chuckled. "Of course not."

They'd talked for a little while longer about matters of little importance mostly, his eyes wandering off every so often before returning to her and engaging in the conversation again. Finally, he'd made the offer of tea and Teyla hadn't the heart to refuse him. At any rate, a nice hot, steaming cup of tea had sounded almost heavenly.

_Perhaps later, _she thought wistfully, glancing over her shoulder at the lonely cup of cold liquid.

With a soft sigh, Teyla looked at him, adoring the relaxed contours of his face and the way his dark hair flipped over his forehead. Even in the absence of their telepathic connection, she felt she had a reasonable idea of the wrestling match behind John's distraction. With or without it, in good times and in bad, she knew him and the forces that drove him.

Every natural human instinct and everything he'd been taught in his personal connections and military training told him one thing—she was his responsibility. He'd always staunchly clung to that sense of duty to her, as her friend, later as her lover, and even more when he became father to her child. In the face of knowing he was, however indirectly, also responsible for her condition, John was devastated. He was thrown and trying to retain his footing against the dark voice inside himself, endlessly prodding him, telling him he had failed his family, that he wasn't good enough. That he wasn't deserving of her or the love and contentment he felt when he was with her.

His struggles saddened her, but his demons had always been a part of him, built over a lifetime and present long before he had ever met her. She only hoped he would remember the love they had built in the time since and trust in that to be his anchor, grounding him to her while they navigated this new path side by side.

Teyla reached out, not being able to resist the lure of his skin. Her fingers brushed lightly across his cheek. John had once told her that he was uncertain he knew how to be a good husband. She smiled, thinking the idea almost absurd considering the unquestioned caliber of the man before her. The way he had quite literally swept her off her feet. The devotion he showed in trying to meet her every need. How easy it was for him to make her smile, even when her heart was troubled. Whether John realized it or not, whenever it was eventually decided they would exchange vows, he was already her husband, her true companion. She couldn't imagine a time she could ever find him wanting.

"I love you, John Sheppard."

John's eyes suddenly peeked open, roused at the soft hum of her voice. He stretched his limbs and after a throaty and satisfied groan, took her by the wrist and brought her fingertips to his lips, kissing them tenderly. "Sorry. Didn't mean to pass out on you."

"It is of no consequence. I have only just awoken myself," she assured him. "In any case, and this may come as a surprise, but you too must sleep on occasion."

A lazy grin appeared. He released her and ran a sloppy hand through his hair. "I guess I haven't really slept much the last few nights, have I?" He squinted toward the windows, then glanced down at his watch. "Crap."

"What is it?"

"Woolsey," he muttered, sitting up and throwing his legs over the side of the bed. "He radioed after you fell asleep. He wants to meet up again in about twenty minutes."

"Finalizing the details on the new mission objectives?"

"More than likely. Either that or the Wraith are on their way to obliterate us all."

"What makes you say that?"

John shrugged. "Let's just say, I informed him that I wasn't too keen on the idea of going anywhere tonight … "

Hardly daring to imagine the words he had actually used to make his point, she finished, " … and he expressed that it was important enough to require your attention."

"Pretty much." John turned, his reluctance to leave plain, but his duties were such that they couldn't be ignored. "It shouldn't take too long and on my way back, I'll swing by the mess hall and grab us some dinner."

"That sounds sensible enough."

His expression hardened somewhat. "I meant to get somebody down here to hang out with you while I was gone."

Her hand slipped over his and tightened. "I will be fine for a while and when last I checked, my radio was in good working order. You are but a call away. Is that not what we discussed?"

"You promise you'll call if you need anything?" he asked with a resigned exhale.

"Of course." Teyla glanced over to her nightstand where her comm link sat and couldn't help the smile that crept up. Set aside, she picked up her book again. "I believe I will just get started on this while you're away. You made the movie sound so interesting, I would hate to delay our watching it together."

His brow arched innocently. "You know, I have other books. Got all kinds of bad guys, explosions … "

"I think this one will suffice." Teasingly, she perused the paperback's back cover. "If I remember correctly, Jennifer told me this author—Jane Austen—also has several others that are equally as captivating. Perhaps they have movies, as well?"

"Don't push it."

.

* * *

.

"Thirty seconds. Twenty-nine … twenty-eight … twenty-seven … keep it steady."

The firm, commanding voice of Mason's PT coordinator sounded in a syncopated rhythm, half again to the deadened thud of his taped fists pounding against the gym's punching bag. Ignoring the comings and goings of other people around him, the S.O. in the corner lifting weights and the pair of geologists hitting the treadmill, the two pressure sensors attached to the center were his sole focus, his targets.

" … twenty-one … twenty … "

Operating well below what he was capable of, Mason had barely broken a sweat. The goal at this stage, of course, wasn't to push. He was just supposed to be maintaining his conditioning and relearning how to intuit the right amount of force with the wide gap in his nervous system. Left, right. Left, right. Methodical. Mechanical. An exercise in repetition he could have reproduced in his sleep.

WHAM!

Rimassa glanced down at his computer readouts, his expression unmoved as he continued to count down.

Maintaining his flawless precision, Capshaw rolled his shoulders, loosening up, then knuckled down for the final seconds of his session. Taking advantage of the freedom to be able to stretch his wings and move unhindered, he powered home several more strikes, finding a zone and letting go.

Rimassa called time, slowly bobbing his head in approval. "Nice work. A little more than I was looking for today … "

"Just kicking the tires," Mason said, starting to pull away the athletic tape from his knuckles while his trainer began peeling the sensors off the punching bag.

"Well, try and remember that, for the moment, we're looking for consistency, not KO's."

"Got it."

Sgt. Cahill, who'd just wrapped up a workout of his own, was packing up his gear a few feet away. Still slightly out of breath, he ran a towel over his forehead, mopping up the fountain of free-flowing sweat. "Not bad, Capshaw. Keep working on it, maybe someday they'll make you a Marine."

Mason's lips quirked to the side, continuing to work his hands free. "And you keep coming up with one-liners like that, you'll always have a promising career at Starbucks to fall back on."

"Hey, if it comes with decent tips and a lifetime supply of caffeine, I'm in. Night duty rotations suck." Looping his towel around his neck, the burly jarhead threw his gym bag over his shoulder. "Good to see you back, Capshaw. Hope you can still keep up."

As Cahill ambled toward the doorway, lifting the end of his towel to catch another stray bead of sweat, Mason set the first wad of tape on the bench and started on his other hand.

Behind him, his trainer gathered up his things and offered him a cautionary warning. "Don't let yourself get goaded into rushing your recovery, Sergeant."

"I know."

"Cahill may mean well, but he hasn't got a clue what you've been … "

"I _know._"

An abrupt flare of aggravation settled in the pit of Mason's stomach. There weren't many people in the city who knew his story and the true nature of what he'd been dealing with. Besides his team and the medical staff assigned to his case, there were probably less than a handful. With him not eager to talk about it, most people just assumed he had a recurring shoulder injury that periodically flared up and benched him. There were a few who'd noticed his regular visits to the base psychologist and were probably thinking he'd had one too many guns waved in his face. But Nick Rimassa, as his physical therapist, was one of the few who were in the loop and the idea that anyone could think his past was something he would easily forget annoyed the hell out of him.

If anyone remembered the discipline it took to rehab an injury, he did. And _this_? An alien implant and a three-inch surgical scar? This was—quite literally—nothing.

With his stuff in hand, Rimassa sidled up to his shoulder. "I'm only saying, it's natural when you're seeing the light at the end of the tunnel to want to run toward it."

Mason rounded on him. "Do you see me running?"

"Ugh! That's just … !"

In the open archway of the gym, McKay's familiar caterwauling echoed into the room. Mason dropped his concrete stare and glanced over. Somehow, in transit, McKay and Cahill had bumped into each other, the marine's bag getting snagged behind him, so that Rodney was front and center to greet Cahill's soaking wet shirt as they passed.

"I believe it's fair to assume I speak for everyone when I say we'd appreciate it if, in your zeal to land Beefcake of the Month, you'd keep your _doubtless_ case of dehydration to yourself."

Cahill craned his neck back to Mason, a raised eyebrow wordlessly asking for permission to shut his teammate up. He shook his head and, grudgingly, Cahill left it alone.

Meanwhile, Rodney seemed naively unaware the silent exchange had even taken place. "I've had nightmares about things less disgusting than that."

Capshaw exhaled. It was a good thing Cahill was one of the good guys.

As Rodney made his way over, Rimassa decided to let their discussion drop. "I'll be sure to have my notes in to Dr. Beckett before your eval, okay?"

"Yeah," he replied dismissively.

Rimassa followed Cahill out as he twisted the last of the protective wrapping away from his wrist and tossed it into his bag with the one set off to the side trailing soon behind. He picked up his water bottle and took a long swig, the muscles of his arms charged and invigorated by the activity.

Rodney walked up and Mason lowered the bottle away from his lips. "You know, if you plan on making a habit of antagonizing people that are bigger than you, you might want to think about picking up a pair of gloves and getting in a workout yourself. I won't always be around to save your ass."

The incident seemed already forgotten as McKay's frenetically busy brain had already moved on. "What? That?"

Mason rolled his eyes and gave up. "You ready to go?"

"Other than the sudden, irresistible urge to take a shower?"

"Good," Capshaw said without waiting for the rest of his response. He picked up his bag, stewing on Rimassa's concern. Yeah, he wanted to be able to report for duty again. Yeah, he wanted Beckett to clear him to go off-world tomorrow. But, he wasn't running. He absolutely wasn't running. "Let's eat."

.

* * *

.

John marched toward Woolsey's office with a strict sense of purpose evident in his quick, long strides. Get in there. Get the job done. Go home. A military attitude befitting someone in his position, but 'Col. Sheppard' was _supposed_ to be taking a backseat in favor of just plain 'John' for the moment. He had two more days off-shift to see to his family; to make sure that Teyla and his daughter were taken care of and to figure out the logistics of the kind of help she would need while she was on bed rest. Having to switch gears at a moment's notice wasn't exactly unheard of around here, but on this particular occasion, he found it more than a little annoying.

The arrangements were made, Woolsey had gotten his recommendations for the next phase of the search, and everything short of an emergency was supposed to be passed on to the XO. Based on the business-as-usual attitude of those manning the control tower as he bounded up the steps two at a time, John was fairly confident he could rule out the threat of imminent invasion or another disease outbreak. So, he was left to wonder what was so important he had to be pulled away from his pregnant girlfriend only hours after her release from the infirmary.

He crossed the platform and Chuck, noticing him as he passed, stopped him just long enough to ask him to give Teyla his best. With a few words of agreement, John gazed over the technician's shoulder toward Woolsey's office. Through the transparent glass walls, he saw Keller and Beckett seated across the desk, appearing engaged in a pretty intense discussion with the expedition leader. John continued forward.

"No … no, I seriously doubt it. Not from what Teyla described to me." Keller's skeptical tone hit his ears as he drew closer. "She's just a baby."

"As much as I respect your abilities and opinion Dr. Keller, the intricacies of Wraith genetics is really more Dr. Beckett's forte. What do _you_ think, doctor?"

"Well, that's not really nature's way, is it?" Carson commented. "In all likelihood, the baby would have ta grow and develop into her abilities just as she would learn ta walk and talk."

"Her abilities may not even manifest until later in life. Adolescence or even adulthood," Jennifer maintained.

Overhearing the topic of discussion, John's jaw clenched tight as he neared the office door.

"But you have no way to know for sure?" Woolsey asked, just before looking up. Judging from the deeply set frown that appeared, it was obvious he wasn't planning for John to have shown up when he did. In getting down here as fast as he had, John realized he was probably a few minutes early.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded.

With his stately manner, Richard rose to his feet, while Jennifer and Carson both wore the awkward, regretful faces of a pair of kids caught between two feuding parents. "Doctors, would you mind giving us the room?"

The pair of them left with Woolsey right behind, closing the door after them. "Would you care to have a seat, Colonel?"

John's eyes flashed sharply.

"Or not."

Wisely, he gave John a moment as he was trying to hold himself back from seething outright. His hand tensely on his hips, John growled, "I want an explanation, Mr. Woolsey, as to why you're poking your nose in and around my family without checking with me first."

"I assure you, Colonel, there wasn't any intention of keeping anything from you. This is precisely what I planned on discussing with you in our meeting."

"So, let's discuss it. Right now."

Leaning stiffly on the corner of his desk, Woolsey appeared to brace himself. "Earlier today in the infirmary, when Dr.'s Keller and Beckett presented their findings, I … found I had a few other pressing questions that needed answering, but given the circumstances, I thought it best done away from Teyla."

John huffed. At least, he'd considered Teyla before going behind their backs.

"I had some concerns … about whether your daughter's apparent abilities are active in their own right or if it's only Teyla's Wraith DNA that enables her to access them. I am sure that, objectively, you can appreciate the implications of having those kinds of abilities in the hands of an infant incapable of controlling them. Teyla seems to have enough difficulty keeping them harnessed as things currently stand. Ensuring the safety of the people on this expedition would become practically impossible."

"And?" he threw back, unwilling to take the theory seriously. There was no way his little girl could be a danger to the population. That much he knew in his heart.

"And … " Richard shifted slightly, " … the doctors seem to think that the baby's abilities are in fact dormant for the time being. Without Teyla's interference, she … seems to be an average child."

John nodded, his eyes ice cold. "Well, now that that's settled, I think we're done here."

He turned his back and stalked toward the door.

"Colonel," Woolsey called. John paused, his back rigid against the black material of his uniform, not bothering to turn around. "There's more."

After a long several seconds of giving hard consideration to walking out on him, John acquiesced to the fact that he was better off knowing everything there was to know. But, he still refused to sit. Just on principle.

He crossed his arms and waited.

It didn't take Woolsey long to realize that was the best he was going to get.

"We received word from Col. Caldwell via remote dial in. The Daedalus has been forced to stop and make a few minor repairs to their hyperdrive systems, putting them a few days behind schedule. Col. Caldwell estimates them to be in orbit over Atlantis in eight days time."

Not what he was expecting, Sheppard felt his tense stance soften marginally. "They run into trouble?"

"A simple malfunction caused an overload in one of the power manifolds. An isolated incident by all accounts and there were no reported injuries."

John shrugged off the incident. "Okay."

"I, uh, also took the opportunity to make a few discreet inquiries after our guest, the IOA representative."

"And how'd that go?" he asked, rapidly losing interest in the conversation.

Woolsey's expression clouded over. "It didn't. In fact, _every _person I've had occasion to talk to regarding the IOA's current interest in Atlantis has told me exactly nothing."

"I'm sure that's frustrating."

"You don't know the half of it, Colonel," Woolsey said, the politician in him coming to the forefront. "I have the uneasy feeling I'm being stonewalled and I don't know why. But, it can't be good. It could be that more than Atlantis' budget concerns are in the balance."

The colonel's face darkened. "What do you think's really going on?"

Woolsey shook his head. "It's hard to predict. It very well may be that our entire operation is going to come under a microscope. My position, yours, every command decision in the past few months—there's no way to know."

"Look … " John started, actually starting to feel a little guilty for being angry with the guy, "I know you haven't been around here that long, but we've done this dance before with IOA. Elizabeth and Carter both had to deal with them. They'll come in, talk a good game and make you second guess every call you've ever made. But in the end, they'll tuck their tails between their legs, run back to the Milky Way, and leave us to here to handle things like we always have."

"I don't think so. Not this time. Richard looked him in the eye for the first time. "_This_ is what I wanted to speak with you about. This latest incident with Teyla and hybrid is likely to come under intense scrutiny and, as much as you and I may understand Teyla's motivations for doing what she did and the results, I don't think the IOA's view will be as tolerant."

As Woolsey went on, John's heart sped up.

"Sgt. Marquetti's after-incident report hardly paints events in a favorable light and Lt. Franks' runs along a similar vein. Ronon—surprise, surprise—has yet to file his paperwork, but somehow I don't think a three-word account consisting of 'the hybrid died' will be enough to sway anyone's opinion."

John shook his head, the ins and outs of politics grating on him. "They can't touch her. Teyla's not military. She's not bound by our rules."

"Like it or not, Colonel, depending on their interest, the IOA isn't going to split hairs on Teyla's status, especially given her … relationship … to you. They might even give the matter _more _weight simply to avoid any appearance of favoritism. As far as they're concerned, Teyla has lived in Atlantis for nearly five years and has agreed to abide by certain protocols. Should they want to push this … "

John's eyes shot up. "What?"

Woolsey withered a little beneath his harsh tone. "They may ask Teyla to vacate the city. They may request to the SGC that, based on a clear conflict of interest, you be relieved of your command."

" … slimy, miserable, paper-pushing IOA sons of … " Sheppard muttered aloud. Taking a beat, he glanced up at the former slimy, paper-pushing IOA rep in front of him. "No offense."

"None taken, Colonel. And I'm afraid that isn't all," he added with a grimace.

"That isn't enough?"

"The other reason I felt it necessary to follow up with Dr. Keller and Dr. Beckett … these abilities, they won't go unnoticed. They may find that the child poses too great a threat," he sighed and looked determined to finish. "Worst case scenario, if Dr. Keller is wrong and the baby is born with these abilities intact and active … in my experience, there are those on the committee who, I believe, would vote to have the child removed to Area 51 for further study."

John's jaw clamped down so hard it was painful. He turned away, a deep torrent of rage welling up, threatening to boil over in the mossy green of his eyes. Every time he felt like maybe the worst was past, there was always something else ready to step up and kick him in the teeth. The blood rushing in his ears, he barely heard Woolsey behind him and the compassion in his voice was lost entirely.

"I think the odds of that happening are extremely slim, but I thought you deserved to know what's at stake here."

John stared through the clear walls of the office. Unconsciously, his fingers stretched and balled into a fist, recalling the time he'd lost his temper and shattered an entire panel of those huge glass windows. He was turning into a bug at the time, but comparatively … he'd felt way more levelheaded then than he did now. Whatever the changes in his head had done to him, he felt a spark of something writhing just beneath the surface, a fire burning just beyond his reach. Almost a compulsion daring him to try, it felt as though if he just narrowed his focus a tiny bit more and hit the glass in just the right spot, he could do it again. Only this time, he wouldn't need the brute strength gifted by his transformation. This time, he could do it with a thought.

He slowly spun, stowing his hands in his pockets for safety's sake. Teetering on the edge of a knife, his words cut through the silence. "I, uh, appreciate your candor, Mr. Woolsey, so let me make myself equally clear. Atlantis is my home. My career, friends, family … they're all here. But I don't care if the orders come down from the IOA, the SGC, or the President himself—the day someone tries to take my daughter away from me is the day I walk Teyla through that Gate and I promise you, no one will _ever_ see us again."

Mr. Woolsey blinked under the heavy gauntlet John had thrown at his feet. Even in his current state of mind, the serious consequences of what he'd said weren't lost on him, but John wasn't going to back down. If Woolsey reported him to his superiors, he could wind up in handcuffs, in front of another court martial. And with his extensive knowledge of highly classified state secrets, he would skip the all-expense-paid package to Leavenworth and spend the next twenty years warming a cell of his own in Area 51's basement. But before that ever happened, he would make sure Teyla was safe and far away from here.

"Colonel Sheppard … " Richard considered carefully, " … I know you and I haven't always exactly seen eye to eye, but I'd like to think we've achieved a sort of working rapport. So, I hope you'll believe me when I say, I honestly hope it won't come to that."

John's hard gaze wavered slightly, struck by his sincerity.

"Neither do I."


	25. About Last Night - Part 1

**Author's Notes: **Okay, just FYI - Chronologically, the flashbacks in this chapter pick up directly where the previous chapter left off, as they were originally intended to be all in ONE chapter. :-/ The format _has_ changed slightly this time around to help this chapter stand on its own two feet. HOWEVER, true to form, I have proven to be too ambitious. Again. And have been forced to split _this_ chapter into two parts. Confused? I am. Basically, you could read Chapters 23, 24, and 25 all together as one great big chapter if you wanted to. *facepalm*

The one bit of non-confusing and good(!) news is, because of my overreaching, Chapter 25 is already well underway. It still needs some work, but I should be able to post it without the huge wait time (for which I, again, apologize profusely).

And as always, I'm open to any and all feedback. It always gives me an incredible lift to get input from others and has certainly helped me to keep this monster of a story alive through everything. You guys have been so patient with me and so understanding, I just hope I can return the favor by doing the story I want to tell justice.

Happy reading!

**.**

**Chapter 24 – About Last Night, Part 1**

**.**

"Colonel," Mason said, his eyebrows reaching skyward in surprise. Sheppard strode up the ramp of the Jumper with a steel gray parka tucked under his arm, standard issue gear to shield them from the ongoing freezing weather on Lairius. "I thought Maj. Lorne was scheduled to do the flying this morning."**  
**

John tossed the coat onto the seat directly behind the pilot's chair, the Jumper's systems waking and coming alive around them. "Not to worry, Capshaw. I'll get you there and back again, safe and sound."**  
**

Not wasting any time, Sheppard began his pre-flight checks. Mason stowed his gear and took over the empty chair in the forward compartment while the colonel barely paid him any mind, his fingers expertly manipulating the controls and the HUD display flashing diagnostic data at a remarkable rate, even for Sheppard.**  
**

"I'm just surprised, that's all." After witnessing firsthand Sheppard's flat refusal to leave Teyla for over two days for anything other than basic hygiene, he wouldn't have thought anything short of a crowbar and a three-man team could have pried him away from her the day after she went home. Certainly not for a glorified courtesy call.**  
**

"I have some business of my own I need to take care of." John spared him a glance before returning his attention to his work. "Rodney's keeping an eye on Teyla, and Katie's there keeping an eye on Rodney. That way, I figure I've got all my bases covered."**  
**

Mason tipped his head in wry agreement. Rodney was in his CO's quarters pulling gofer duty for Teyla and to be there in case she went into labor, but Mason didn't envy Dr. Brown a bit. She had the much harder job; keeping McKay from inadvertently agitating Teyla, while simultaneously having to act as a buffer for Rodney's attention. Because if McKay ever stopped talking long enough to make the connection, to _really_ let it sink in that he'd been left alone with not just plain old Teyla, but a woman who could potentially have a baby at any time, they'd have a full blown panic attack on their hands. The woman was a saint.

Yet, inexplicably, she seemed genuinely happy with him.

_Jealous of McKay, _he grumbled to himself_. _Ronon … that probably wouldn't come as a shock to anyone, but McKay? It didn't get much lower than that.**  
**

The Jumper's rear hatched began to close and he breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe Rimassa had a point. Maybe, he _was _running. But after what happened last night … he had to.

.

* * *

.

" … get my due in the scientific community. They're gonna see. Washed out shut-in … The second the Stargate program is declassified, those very same fawning sycophants are gonna be falling all over themselves to get their limey paws on my work. And the Nobel prize? As good as mine."

Nearing the mess hall entrance, Mason smirked. He skirted around Dr. Martinez, who was on his way out. "Just remember to try and look humble during your acceptance speech." **  
**

"Well … naturally," McKay said as though it were the most unnatural thing in the world.**  
**

"I'm serious. Take the high road," Capshaw pressed as they filed into the crowded mess hall. "That way you can look down on everyone without straining your neck."**  
**

"Oh, har har."**  
**

Somewhere up ahead, they heard a woman's voice cutting through the din of human conversation. "Rodney!"**  
**

As soon as Mason laid eyes on Katie Brown, he knew his dinner plans had just changed.**  
**

McKay stammered, taken off-guard. "Katie, I thought you were … "**  
**

A hopeful smile painted her delicate features. "I _was _scheduled to be on duty for another couple of hours, but I finished a few things early and thought … why not try and catch you while you were here."**  
**

"Well … that … that's great," Rodney said.**  
**

"You're sure? I know you really don't like surprises."**  
**

"No, no! This is … great," he repeated. "It's just usually around here the surprises involve an alien invasion or some other scenario where I inevitably am forced to do the impossible at the last second or we all die in some horrible fashion. That kind of pressure … it tends to put one off the whole idea of … surprises. Um … but this is … a different kind of thing really … "

Capshaw elbowed his teammate and McKay plastered on a long-overdue smile. **  
**Mason rolled his eyes, floored at the staggering level of romantic ineptitude on display. He and Katie had been back together for months, yet McKay was still acting like a guy who'd never been on a date in his life. It was a wonder the couple had ever made it past second base.

But, in spite of that, the starry-eyed expression of Dr. Brown gave Mason an acute sense of his rapid descent into third wheeldom.**  
**

"Have a good time, you two," he said, lightly smacking Rodney's shoulder. **  
**

Katie's smile stretched timidly. "You don't mind?"**  
**

"Nah." With McKay's workaholic tendencies, he imagined it was hard enough for them to find a little time to themselves and Capshaw wasn't going to be the one to throw a wet towel on the tenderhearted woman's romantic hopes. "Besides, I'd only cramp Rodney's style. Such as it is."**  
**

"Very funny." The smug scientist took Katie's hand possessively. "I'd like to see you do better, Casanova."**  
**

Katie was already glowing as Mason edged away. "You got me there, McKay. Have a nice night."**  
**

So, he found himself alone. Temporarily allowed free of the cumbersome sling, Mason procured himself a tray and glanced over the spread the kitchen staff had laid out. It was burger night, complete with all the fixings and tiny condiment packets. He grabbed what he wanted and carried his tray outside to the balcony. It wasn't as crowded out there and it was a nice night, the last rays of the sun barely visible over the horizon. The stars were already out, twinkling brightly overhead.

As he sat down, it occurred to him that if Wilcox, the base psychologist, were here, he'd probably be giving him grief, telling him he was purposely isolating himself, falling into old patterns. But the truth was, Mason had always preferred the quiet.

Growing up in a small town on the border of Colorado and Wyoming, there were the usual sounds of people during the day, but at night when everyone had gone home, nature still reigned. The wind would whip down through the mountains and woods outside of town, while deer grazed and owls stalked their prey. There were some nights he would watch TV and hear the mournful howl of a wolf carried in on the breeze.**  
**

His home life hadn't exactly been bustling with activity either. His father had never been in the picture, nothing more to him than a name on his birth certificate, and his mom supported him by working as a nurse at the local hospital. She'd tried hard to stick to the day shift when he was younger to be around for him, but as he grew, she had started working graveyards more and more, leaving the nights to him. As a teenager, he'd taken advantage of the freedom a few times, whether it was sneaking out to do stupid things with the guys or sneaking in a girl to do … other things. Pretty typical stuff, but more often than not, he was satisfied being on his own, looking after himself.**  
**

He was used to the quiet. It was what he was best at and it didn't bother him at all.

Most of the time.

The wide expanse of ocean under the rapidly darkening sky and the city illuminated below made for an unforgettable view as he ate, but he couldn't seem to get comfortable. He stretched out, propping one leg up in one of the empty chairs across from the rectangular table. He nudged his tray a little further away to give himself some space, but it didn't help. He adjusted and readjusted, like it was his own skin that was the problem. Mason even found himself wishing for more of McKay's oafish attempts to charm Dr. Brown. Anything to drown out the incessant hum of his stream of consciousness, its current invariably carrying him the one direction he couldn't go.

It was his own fault, really. He should've known that spending the better part of the last couple of days hanging out in her domain with Teyla and Sheppard was begging for trouble. Ronon, on his own, he could handle, but bringing Jennifer into the picture … it hurt. So much more than he thought it would. He didn't want it to, but he couldn't help it. His heart kept beating for her even though he couldn't hear it anymore, his imagination filling in the gap with illusions of them together. Early sparring sessions when Ronon was probably pinning her supple, lithe little body to the ground, he thought bitterly, suddenly seized by an overwhelming desire to throw something. What they did when they went for walks during those times when they'd needed a break from the sterile environment of the infirmary. Mealtimes.

Mason put down his half-gone burger and rubbed at the back of his neck. It was pointless, driving himself crazy. He had his reasons for stepping away from Jennifer and they weren't any less valid now. It was … too late and too soon. Too much and, in the same moment, not nearly enough. He wasn't the man she wanted and he _certainly_ wasn't the one she needed.

He was antsy. That's all it was. Too much time with nothing to keep him busy, except PT and the joys of self-reflection. Hopefully, that wouldn't last much longer. Physically, Mason almost felt normal again; a new normal, but a good one. One he was starting to get used to. Dr. Wilcox seemed pretty convinced that he wasn't a ticking time bomb and could return to duty soon. All that was left was for his shoulder to finish healing and a signature from Beckett, and Mason could finally bury the last two-and-a-half years of his life and move on.

That's all he needed.

_"Sgt. Capshaw, come in. This is Dr. Beckett."_

Busily coating the salty tip of a french fry in ketchup, he perked up and reached to his earpiece. "This is Capshaw. Go ahead."

_"I'm aware your appointment isn't for another hour yet, but I've finished my meeting a mite early. If you'd like, I could squeeze you in now, Sergeant."_

He was already up and out of his seat. "On my way."

.

* * *

.

The Jumper hovering in place, Sheppard activated the ship's comm system. "Tower, this is Sheppard. We're ready whenever you are."

_"__Understood, Colonel," _Banks answered. _"__Dialing the Gate now."_**  
**

"Roger that."**  
**

The floor began to open beneath the small craft and once the initial explosion of the Stargate's vortex cleared the room, he lowered the ship into position.**  
**

Mr. Woolsey stood just to the right of the active Gate, directly in John's line of sight, stoic and set.**  
**

"Nice of you to come and see us off, Mr. Woolsey, but you really didn't need to bother. We'll be back before you know it," John said, his voice determined. As this informal mission fell under his jurisdiction as military commander, John hadn't bothered to run his decision to pinch hit the piloting duties by him. But Woolsey was pretty astute for a lawyer and after his less-than-politic reaction to last night's 'discussion', John hadn't left much of his thought process to the imagination. He'd probably guessed his plans the minute he heard.**  
**

Mr. Woolsey reached for his earpiece. _"__Are you certain you're feeling up to this, Colonel?"_**  
**

John could have laughed, except nothing about this was funny. What he was feeling now, last night in Woolsey's office, and later, when he went home. None of it. Fate was toying with his family's future with the IOA on one side and Michael on the other, pulling the strings and threatening to tear apart everything he held dear.**  
**Woolsey's discreetly veiled offer of a final out fell on deaf ears. John was done playing. Maybe Richard thought he would have cooled off overnight. He had, in a way, but more than ever, he knew exactly what he was doing and who he was doing it for.**  
**

"Never felt better."

_"__In that case, Colonel … " _Richard began, then paused, a decision before him. John waited for the order to cut the wormhole and override the Jumper's controls, grounding him. To confine him to quarters or to the brig. But then, Woolsey frown softened and, with a distinct note of understanding and concession in his voice, said, " … _give the Athosians my sincerest regards."_

John nodded slowly, gratefully. The painful ache in his jaw began to ease. "Will do."

.

* * *

.

"Hey, McKay!" John called, seeing him and Katie Brown up ahead in the corridor. They were moving in the opposite direction as he was; away from the mess hall, with their food in tow. Heat was still burning strong beneath his collar. If he'd taken even a second to put two and two together, John would've recognized the tell-tale signs of a date in progress and just kept walking, but he'd just left Woolsey's office and … well … he wasn't really thinking all that clearly.**  
**

Catching up to them, he immediately started in. "I need you to dig into the database and find me the darkest, muddiest hellhole of a planet we've got."**  
**

Rodney's forehead creased. "Um … why?"**  
**

"I thought I'd take our friendly neighborhood IOA rep on a sightseeing tour of Pegasus hot spots and leave him there. And the minute we get our hands on Michael, he'll have a little company. It'll be like Survivor – Pegasus." John pointed his finger. "Taranis, is it still …?"**  
**

"Molten sea of lava, ash cloud poisoning the atmosphere." The blatant question on the scientist's face was trumped only by his insatiable curiosity. "Sufficiently hot and hellhole-like, I should think."**  
**

"Sounds perfect."**  
**

"Yeah, except one … minor hiccup. Somehow, I don't see you getting Caldwell on board with your diabolical scheme to bring bad reality television to a _second _unsuspecting galaxy. And … you'll, most likely, lose the element of surprise at some point during the seven hundred and sixty years or so it takes to get there by Puddlejumper."**  
**

"Seven forty-five easy," John corrected. "Accounting for the occasional delay, seven fifty tops."**  
**

Rodney radiated sarcasm in abundance. "Oh, that's _much _better."

"Is everything alright, Col. Sheppard?" Katie broke in.

John answered with an airy huff, the current range of his vocabulary incapable of describing how not alright he was. Still, the question managed to snap him back to himself long enough for him to realize he was busting in on their good time.

"Don't tell me the whole pregnancy hormone thing is contagious," carped McKay.**  
**

John made a token attempt to blow the whole thing off. "Nothing, Rodney. It's nothing."**  
**

"And the, uh, not-so-spontaneous reenactment of 'Gilligan's Island'?"**  
**

"For now, consider it Plan B."**  
**

"And Plan A is?"**  
**

"A work in progress." Sheppard pursed his lips, thick from too much time already spent in heavy contemplation. He could feel the tension written all over his face, but he couldn't seem to do much about it. "I'll get back to you when I figure it out."**  
**

Rodney's interest piqued, he wasn't quite ready to let the subject drop. "Well, according to Beckett, you can see the future now. Can't you just divine the answer with your genetically superior brain?"**  
**

John stiffened unexpectedly, surprising even himself.**  
**

"Rodney, I don't think this is the best time for that," Dr. Brown gently urged, noting that the half-joking comment had hit a nerve. "Maybe we should … "**  
**

"You know, it's not some parlor trick I can just turn on and off, McKay," he heard himself say, words spilling out like drops from a leaky faucet. "I can't control it. I have no idea what caused it in the first place. Right now, I couldn't even land an audition to become the next Carnac the Magnificent.

John's ire and indignation at the unseen threats that seemed to be coming a him from all sides plunged inward and turned on him viciously. An indignant finger pointed in Rodney's direction, his voice growing measured, precise, and bleak. "I've had a … a premonition … exactly once_. _And it didn't really help all that much, did it? There was no context to it, no way to know what it meant. But, I _heard _you and Ronon talking. Part of me _knew _something bad was going to happen. I saw it, but I … didn't. Teyla, the baby … " John's hand oscillated angrily in the air, but what came out sounded subdued and remorseful. "I didn't see this coming, McKay. None of it."

Sheppard's mouth shut tight as he tried to wrangle his emotions back into their box. The IOA rep was on his way, toting a hidden agenda that could mean the end of his life as he knew it. An … _amazing_** … **but potentially dangerous quirk of genetics was holding his child's life hostage with the woman he loved caught in the middle, and Michael was there, too, ominously peering over his shoulder, biding his time for God knows what. In her present condition, Teyla was completely dependent on him. There was too much riding on his shoulders for him to come unraveled.

When his eyes flickered back up, he saw that any sense of mirth on Rodney's face was long gone. "Sheppard, what's going on? What happened?"

"Nothing. I … shouldn't have … " John didn't trust himself enough to be able to talk about it yet, the weight of his responsibilities coupled with too little sleep pulling at his eyes and recklessly loosening his tongue. He tipped his chin, took a beat, and started again. "I'm sorry I … It's been a long day. Can we just forget it?" **  
**

"Look, John … "**  
**

"Just … " Sheppard bit his tongue, perilously close to snapping. " … for now, okay?" He went on without waiting for any sign of acceptance. "I need to get home. Teyla's waiting for me."

And he couldn't let her see him like this.

Ducking his head as he moved away, John mumbled, "I'll see you later."

.

* * *

.

"Almost done, Doc?"

"I know this isn't the most exciting thing you've done today, but in case you haven't noticed, you have an alien device playing house all over your sensory net. Checking to make certain it's not spreading seems like a prudent use of a few minutes," Carson scolded him, adjusting the chilly metal probe over the exposed skin of Mason's back. "Just once more, now. Can you feel that there?"

"Yeah."

"Very good." The poking and prodding session over, Carson ambled over to retrieve his file, slipping the probe into his coat pocket. He took out a pen in its place and scribbled down a few notes. "There are a few null spots between the C2 and C4 vertebrae and the odd one or two in the upper right quadrant, but your back as a whole appears to remain largely unaffected."

"So, what's the verdict?" Mason asked.

"You're as healthy as a horse," Beckett pronounced, peaking out over the top of the brown folder and folding it shut, his signature Scottish lilt wry. "Assuming, of course, that the horse in question is recuperating from experimental surgery."

"But am I catching a ride in the morning?"

Carson tucked the file under his arm and exhaled. "Aye, you're cleared to go. Your incision is healing rather nicely and, according to your trainer, your range of motion is well ahead of expectations. I don't see any reason to keep you. But I'm not quite ready to rubber stamp your return to active duty just yet."

"Fine, fine. Whatever."

Mason jumped off the hospital bed. He could deal with the whole 'one step at a time' thing, just as long as that first step was a big one right out the door, and not having to wear a sling anymore was an added bonus.

Carson smiled and shook his head at Mason hurriedly grabbing his shirt from off the nearby chair. He flung it out in front of him and jerked it back, creating a muffled pop as he straightened the tangled mess. "Give my love to Setisse."

"You got it," he replied, not bothering to look up.

"Carson, I'm taking o— … "

Mason heard a quiet gasp and, his hand already halfway inside the first sleeve, turned around to see Jennifer screeching to a halt as she rounded the curtain.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I, uh, thought you were finished already," she directed toward both of them, her eyes widening at him, then, with the oncoming rush of pink in her cheeks, skirting back toward Beckett.

Momentarily paralyzed, Mason glanced down at his bare torso where 765 cut across him in a slate black ribbon, the muscular ridges of his abs below the dead zone buckling as soon as he saw her. He'd never been shy about his body and Lord knew Jennifer had seen it all before, but Capshaw was suddenly very aware he was partially naked.

"It's no problem," he said, starting to get the feeling back in his extremities enough to move.

"It's quite alright, Dr. Keller. We're finished here," Carson assured her while Mason set about pulling the black tee over his head, his dogtags jingling as they flopped in the rapid press of the material. "Are you finally calling it a night, then?"

"Yep. No more theories, no more patients, or last minute meetings." Mason could hear the relief in her voice. After how hard she'd been working lately, she deserved some downtime. "I'm taking down my shingle for the night. I just wanted to let you know before I left that Dr. Daden was here."

"Glad to hear it, luv. I expect I'll be leaving myself, soon enough." Beckett glanced over at Capshaw sliding his shirt into place and casually waved his file. "I've just got a wee bit of paperwork to sort out first."

Mason angled his chin upward in an abbreviated nod. "Thanks again for that, Doc."

"It's my pleasure," Carson said, before excusing himself.

Mason stayed put, waiting for Jennifer to follow behind Beckett, but she stayed. Crossing her arms, she screwed on that shy, half-formed smile she held in reserve for when she was nervous. It seemed like an hour before she finally spoke.

"Can I ask how it went?"

He could feel the intensity with which he was eying her, but he couldn't bring himself to look away. "Doc says I'm getting better. I'm not ready to take on the bad guys yet, but I'm good enough for a quick run offworld."

The anxious smile grew slightly. "I'm glad to hear it."

The painful pause that came next bothered him a lot. It seemed like a slight in remembrance of the natural way they used to be around each other. They both knew they weren't _supposed _to be friends anymore, but neither knew how to be any different.

"Can I walk you out?" he asked, unable to stand the wall between them for much longer.

She looked honestly happy at the offer. "Sure."

Jennifer led the way with him close at her heels. Mason caught himself as his hand instinctively reached for the enticing curve in the small of her back, snatching it away at the last second, grateful she didn't seem to have noticed.

Trying to cover the slip, he said the first point of common interest that sprang to mind, and having passively watched her working for the last two days, that's where his train of thought headed. "So, um … do you really think Teyla's gonna be okay?"

Her head turned to glance back at him. A hesitant smile still graced her features. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so. She was able to carry the baby well enough before, in spite of the ATA gene being present, so it stands to reason she can again. Once she has enough time to recover, obviously."

Mason quietly agreed.

"She's going to have to shelve her new abilities for a while, but I don't see any reason why she shouldn't make it to her due date."

"What about after that?" he posed as they reached the hallway. He eased up to walk side by side. "What happens after the kid is born? Do you think it'll be permanent? Like SuperTeyla?"

She gave him a look like she couldn't believe what he was suggesting. "I don't think I could even take a guess at this point."**  
**

"It'd be kinda cool," he said, with a evocative waggle of his eyebrows as though Jennifer had a say in the matter.

"Sure, it would. And what woman doesn't go straight for the spandex after having a baby?"

Mason shrugged with a conciliatory smirk. "I wouldn't know."**  
**

Jennifer let out a light chuckle and with the soft cadence of her laugh, Capshaw couldn't hold back one of his own. Being with her made everything else seem so easy, like their complex dynamic was the simplest thing in the world. Like he could forget.

Not even sure of where they were going, he followed her lead and they just went.

"I see you're finally giving yourself a night off."

She grinned proudly. "Yep. Now that Teyla is home safe and sound and all the rest of the dirty work is done, from this moment on, I am refusing to think about anything deeper than catching the grudge match going down between the geologists and the biology department tonight." He passed her an inquisitive glance. "Dr. Gallagher and Dr. Johannsen are finally gonna settle the score."

"Ah," he said, a mental image of the two scientists appearing in his memory. "The Nose vs. The Swedish Meatball."

She giggled. "You make Karaoke Night sound like the new bloodsport."

"Two guys with clashing egos working in front of a crowd? I'll bet you a week's pay there's blood before the third song."

"You're such an optimist."

"All I'm saying is that you'd better have a backup plan for this night of leisure of yours."

"I do, as a matter of fact. I'm gonna curl up with my little TV, a big blanket and a bowl of microwave popcorn, and watch a sappy movie. The sappier the better."

He kept walking, the calm domestic picture coalescing in his mind seamlessly.

"I may even break out the fuzzy slippers later," she added with a mischievous nudge.

Mason raised his brow, ignoring the thrill of the electric charge that raced its way up his arm where she'd touched him. His low baritone seemed a little raspier than normal as he asked, "The white ones or the pink ones with the little … "

Jennifer smiled coyly. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Mason laughed. "So you're planning on living it up, then."

"That's the plan," she said softly, blissfully.

He looked over at her, the golden sheen in her hair shining and bouncing under the corridor lights, thinking this is what it must feel like for a moth when it first lays eyes on a flame. He was going to get burned and worse, she was, and he felt powerless to do anything about it. He saw himself reach out to take her hand, too late to turn back. His hand enveloped hers with ease, her much smaller frame feeling incredible inside his.

"Sounds like a good night, Jen. You should enjoy it."

Her big, hazel eyes peered up at him, so inviting and innocent. She had no idea … To her, he was reaching out in friendship. "Thanks, Mason."

He looked away, glancing ahead as they kept moving together. He realized they were headed in the direction of her quarters. Of course, they were. What kind of living it up happens while you're in your work clothes?

Still trying to hang onto a shred of his dignity, Capshaw let her hand loose and was about to make a polite excuse and let her get on with her night, when Ronon's lumbering shadow appeared, soon replaced with the man himself, jogging up to them.

Ronon slowed and the two men exchanged measured glances.

"Hey," his teammate, his friend said, his questioning stare never wavering from Mason. His penetrating eyes roved up and down, taking stock. "What's going on?"

_He could probably smell the pheromones for crying out loud. _ "Nothing. We were just talking," Mason said.

Ronon didn't have that tear-your-head-off hostility in his face, but he also didn't look convinced. "Talking?"

"Talking," Mason repeated.

Jennifer cut in, clearly glad to see him. "So does this mean you decided to take me up on my offer?"

"What could it hurt, right?" Ronon answered with a shrug.

"You'll love it, I promise," she said with a beaming grin.

An audible grunt ripped from his lungs, Mason feeling as though he'd just been kicked in the stomach. The whole time … she was telling him about how great her night was going to be … and it was all about a date with _Ronon_.

"You know, Mason, you could come along," Jennifer said, her bright, naïve eyes looking up at him, seeing only her friend and pouring salt on an open wound. Even Ronon appeared to balk at the idea. "Chuck and Radek have practically turned this into a big numbers game on which department comes out with the win. I've got a few bucks on Johannsen."

He tried, but he felt like a fool who'd known he was walking into an ambush and allowed himself to be led anyway. If he was a better man, or at least more practiced at lying, maybe he could've done a better job at hiding the blinding surge of jealousy that hit him, but as it was he felt the emotion crowding his throat, only infuriating him further. "You two … have a lovely evening."

"Are you sure?"

"Just leave me alone," he hissed as he walked away.

.

* * *

.

"Honey, I'm home." His hands full, John walked inside, sending a thought to the door behind him. It slid shut obediently. "I got you some fruit, plenty of rabbit food, and a nice big, greasy burger to cancel it all out."**  
**

"That sounds fine, John," Teyla's voice carried in from the bedroom.

With one last heavy breath as he went, John took the pair of trays in to her.

She was still on the far side of the bed where he'd left her, except instead of being reclined across the mattress, Teyla was seated on the edge with her back to him, poised with her feet on the ground.

He quickly set down their dinner, not wanting to jump to conclusions. She probably just wanted to get a little blood moving and her radio was still well within reach if something was wrong. "You okay?"

Teyla peered over her shoulder and smiled. "Perfectly. Too well, perhaps. The baby is kicking and … " She sucked in, absorbing a tiny blow. The corners of her mouth curved upward once again, an endearingly shy expression gracing her features this time. "It is wonderful to feel her moving so strongly once again, but her timing leaves something to be desired."

"You've gotta go, huh?" he said, moving around the bed to place himself in front of her.

She nodded, slightly embarrassed, and scooted closer. "I thought I might be rather unsteady on my feet to begin with, so I wanted to wait until you returned. Would you mind?"

Not bothering further with words, his help never in question, Teyla reached out and caught his hands. John braced her as she put her full weight on her legs for the first time in nearly three days. The urge to pick her up and carry her to the bathroom leaped to the fore, but John held it in check. Until Keller said otherwise, times like these were the only chance Teyla had to walk around under her own steam, a challenge for someone as active as she was. He didn't want to take those few opportunities away from her.

John was glad she waited for him, though. She did seem a little shaky for the first few seconds, held tight in his grip, but soon enough, she was able to hold herself firm.

"You good?"

"Yes," she said, releasing one hand to push her hair back behind her. "Thank you."

While she was in the other room, John sat down and started dressing his food. It was a foregone conclusion that Teyla would ask him about his meeting with Woolsey and he wasn't sure what he was going to tell her. The entire way home, he'd been trying to erase the evidence from the lines in his face. He didn't want to upset Teyla and the last thing her overtaxed body needed was more to worry about. If the miniscule trembling as he held her told him anything, it was that she was still in a vulnerable place that only time and rest would heal. How the hell could he justify telling her that, if the IOA rep en route was as unscrupulous as some of the other esteemed members of the international committee, her child could wind up being ripped from her arms, when the odds of it happening were so slim and it might end up doing far more harm than good?

But it was _Teyla._The same woman who had watched his back for years, stared into the face of almost certain death by his side and never flinched. She knew well the injustices of life and was capable of making the hard decisions when all other choice had fled. She was a powerful woman, a deadly force embodied in feminine beauty and elegance. There was nothing Teyla couldn't handle or overcome.

_Except, losing a child, _he reminded himself. That alone, above anything else in all of creation, he thought might destroy her, and he would fall right along with her. All the more reason why he was never going to let it happen.

Even after Teyla had ambled back and settled down on the bed, he didn't have a plan. She picked at her food, taking in a mouthful here and there, casting him a few furtive glances. She expected him to say something, anything. He tried a few times. He squared his shoulders and his lips would part, but nothing presented itself, so he would grab another quick bite to cover his uneasiness.

"I managed to read several chapters while you were gone," Teyla said, taking it upon herself to break the silence.

John swallowed. "Find anything good, yet?"**  
**

"Quite a bit. Though, I doubt you and I would share the same opinion on what is good and what is not in this case."

"Probably not." He scarfed down a couple of fries, avoiding her studious gaze.

Her mouth curled, entertaining thoughts far afield of the topic and letting the flimsy excuse for a conversation drop.

John placed his attention on his food, barely tasting it as it passed down his throat in heavy clumps, sitting like boulders in his stomach. Teyla's fork clinked against the plate as she tried to eat. Her appetite was turning sour along with his. He could tell.

"There are no hive ships on approach to the city, I assume?"

"No."**  
**

She set down her salad fork and took a few bites out of her burger before deciding she'd had all she could stomach. She pushed her tray away and John, following her lead, gave up the charade as well. He picked the trays off the bed and took them into the kitchen, out of the way. He stopped to get a glass of water and by the time he had come back, Teyla had settled fully against the headboard, though her eyes followed him, filled with questions and doubt.

As he sat down next to her, he watched her lids close briefly, then just as briefly, her exquisite features visibly blanched and pulled away from whatever it was she sought.

John reached across the bed to cover her hand. "Teyla?"**  
**

She lifted her faraway gaze from the mattress. "I am fine. I am. I am just … finding it difficult not knowing what it is that you are thinking. It would be so simple for me to … " A regretful, sad smile met him as she exhaled. "The temptation to link our minds is quite strong, but for our child's sake, I do not dare. It pains me to admit it, but I have my doubts that even so small an intrusion of the Ancestor's gifts would be tolerated by my body at this point." **  
**

John worked his jaw into a tense grimace.

"It was a comfort knowing I could simply reach out and you would be in here with me." Her fingers slid across her temple, following a graceful curve. "I suppose I was not prepared to lose that closeness with you so soon after having found it."

John's lips a straight line as his stomach broiled within, he reached out. His thumb retraced her finger's previous path. Teyla breathed in softly at his touch. "Maybe, it's for the best. Believe me, Teyla, you don't want to hear what's going on in my head right now."

"What has happened? What did Mr. Woolsey have to say that has you so troubled you can scarcely speak?"

The concern and need in her face belted him in the gut. He didn't think he could lie to her. Even if he tried, she knew him so well he wasn't sure she wouldn't see right through him anyway, but more than that … he didn't _want _to lie to her. He shook his head and whispered, "I can't do this Teyla," all the while thinking he could. John could so easily picture himself opening up to her, telling her everything and having truth's blunt sword cutting her to the quick.

"John, I know things have been difficult, but … " she said quietly, " … do not shut me out. Please."

"You don't know what you're asking, Teyla."

"How can I when you say _nothing_?"

His resistance to her already tenuous, his voice came out low and harsh. "I'm trying to protect you."

Her left hand flew up to take hold of his shoulder. Not to caress, but to command. "And who is it that protects you, John?"

_No one_, a sinister voice stirred in his head, a voice he'd heard and smothered so many times over the years, he barely recognized it as his own anymore. But it always persisted somewhere in the background, reminding him not to let anyone in too deep, because _nothing_-not torture, a bullet, or even a Wraith feeding-hurt more than loving someone and having them disappear.

Only a moron would open themselves up to that kind of pain. Or someone completely and hopelessly in love.

"I am not so far removed from you that I cannot see what is happening in front of my own eyes, John," Teyla said under her breath.

"And what's that?"

"You fear for me. You fear for our child," she replied curtly. "On top of all we have learned from Jennifer and Carson, whatever it is Mr. Woolsey said to you has only served to make it worse."

He didn't bat an eyelash.

"I was aware that something was bothering him earlier today in the infirmary, but my concerns laid elsewhere at the time. Obviously, he has shared his concerns with you and you have decided, without consulting me, that it would be better for me to live in ignorance."

"I haven't decided _anything_." John could hear the edge in his tone, his desire to take solace with her bleeding through his walls in permeating waves and damning his reasons for keeping silent to near oblivion. His throat was raw.

"You do not have to take on all of life's burdens by yourself, John. Just talk to me. Let me in."

"What do want to know, Teyla? That I'm pissed off? That I'm so frustrated I can barely see two feet in front me? That I don't think I've ever been more scared in my entire life?" His throat caught. "You don't want to hear that stuff, Teyla, and I don't want it for you!"

Teyla's deep brown eyes began to glisten, but the determination on her face didn't ebb. "I want to know and as our baby's mother, I have that right. I have the _right _to know anything and everything concerning my child and anything that has the power to make the man I love-my chosen partner-feel as you do."

John wrestled with a growl caught in the hollow of his throat and choked it down. Why did she have to go and make a valid point, when it flew in the face of everything he was trying to do for her? Why couldn't she just let it go and let him keep her safe?

_Because she loves you, stupid. She's just as stubborn as you are, and she knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you need her right now. _

The skin surrounding his eyes went taut, pressure pounding his forehead. Feeling too conflicted to think, too at war with himself to even breathe, John put a hand up and hid his face inside the span of his palm.

"John … " He felt the mattress give as she scooted in closer. A small hand ran down his shoulder the entire length of his arm to join with his free hand. Below, Teyla's fingers interwove with his, while above, she gently urged him to look at her. When he finally did, love swelled within her dark, almond eyes. Her arm encircled his neck, allowing him to bury himself in her warmth instead.

"You and I, we are one in all things, John Sheppard," she said quietly, her voice a whispered song in his ear. "We share our joys and our pleasures without hesitation, and they are, by far, the greatest moments I have ever experienced. But there is a balance in all things, which also means that what hurts you, hurts me. You cannot spare me that. It was already too late the moment you came home and I saw the look on your face."

He let out a short, anguished grunt in the soft curve of her neck. He should have known he never stood a chance. She could read him like a book, chapter and verse.

John lifted up and sat back in the vain hope that creating a little distance might help him think clearer. Maybe he couldn't avoid hurting her by opting to keep his mouth shut. She already knew something was very wrong and worrying herself back into the infirmary wouldn't do either of them any good. Not to mention, she would resent him for withholding information that she-he admitted to himself grudgingly-_had _the right to know. But he certainly was going to do his best to make this easier on her. He needed to choose his words carefully.

He wet his lips and nodding absently, he murmured, "Woolsey's worried."

Teyla straightened as well, listening intently.

"The IOA are holding their cards pretty close to the chest and he's pretty convinced something's up," John said.

"He believes they may have more on their agenda than what we have been led to believe," Teyla surmised.

John confirmed that for her and went on. "If this guy shows up and starts making it a priority to dig into everything that's gone on around here lately, reports about killing an enemy prisoner are going to throw up all kinds of red flags. Your new abilities, the baby … "

Teyla sighed. "I see."

"Do you?"

"I am not so foolish as to believe that there would be no consequences for my actions, John. I was sent in for an interrogation and, instead of getting the answers I was meant to, a man is dead. It is only right that I be held accountable for that."

"No … Teyla, I'm not talking about getting your wrists slapped. And, by the way, I happen to think going into premature labor is consequence enough, thanks." John exhaled heavily, tugging at his chin. "The baby … she's one-of-a-kind. She's unique and something the IOA or anyone else has ever seen before. And in the grand scheme of things, people—especially the kind of people they've got working for the IOA—they don't tend to deal well with the unknown."

Teyla's fingers splayed protectively over her sizeable bump, her face growing still and dark. "You believe they will be afraid of her. They will presume she is dangerous."

"Maybe," he said in a coarse whisper. The IOA wasn't exactly an angry mob of villagers, but the results … "Honestly, I don't know. I don't know what's going to happen. Depends on who's running the show, I guess. But I don't think we can afford to put _anything_past those guys."

John watched her turn away to peer out the windows into the night sky beyond. She didn't say anything for a while and he knew all too well the kinds of thoughts rushing through Teyla's head. The possibilities of what some people were capable of when, in their ignorance, they perceived a threat. About this time an hour ago, he was seriously thinking about remodeling Woolsey's office. The idea that anyone could think of his infant daughter as a danger infuriated him on a level he hardly knew existed before today. Something totally innate and instinctive, primordial in its power over him. He supposed this was what it felt like to really be a father. He could hardly imagine what Teyla, as a mother, was feeling.

For the moment, she was staring across the room. Unaware.

Almost in a trance.

"Teyla?"

Frenetic images came funneling across his vision, jarring in their intensity and making about as much sense as a lone whisper in a roaring sea of static. They slowed quickly allowing John to pick up hints of what he was seeing before they were gone again, a new image already coming and going in a rush. Running through a forest thick with trees. A night unnaturally bright. He glanced down at his hands. They weren't his.

"Teyla … "

Then, everything stopped. The swirling barrage slammed into focus on one moment. He was looking up at himself, staring into his own face. _Teyla_ was looking up at him, a carefully swaddled bundle in her arms. Their enemies were swarming around them, closing in on them quickly. One was already here. Too close. Much too close.

He couldn't move. No, it was her that couldn't move. Terrified, sore, and on the verge of tears, he … _she_ gently pushed the small … very small … infant into his arms. _"Take her. You have to take her, John. Run."_

_NO! _

Cringing,John wrested his consciousness from Teyla's, refusing to watch any more. That hadn't happened yet. It wasn't going to!

In the bed, Teyla gasped, breathing like a sprinter after the hundred-yard dash. "I am … sorry. I did not … "

"Are you okay?" His gaze rolled over her, searching swiftly for any sign of pain or oncoming contractions.

She nodded quickly, her eyes wide and wet. She was shaking. "I am fine … I am fine."

"What … _When_ was it?"

"I do not know."

John pulled her into his arms, hugging her so tightly he could feel her heart thudding against his ribcage.

"It's okay, Teyla … s'okay … s'okay," he whispered quietly over and over again, laying desperate kisses on her forehead, wanting feverishly to make her feel safe again. "I'm gonna take care of this, Teyla, I swear. No matter what I have to do, nothing is going to happen to her. Or you."


	26. About Last Night - Part 2

**Author's Notes:** I feel like doing a little happy dance. Excuse me one sec … *dances merrily* Okay, all better. I managed to get a chapter out in less than a month! Yay! I'm gonna try really, really hard to do it again. Wish me luck. I'm back to working without a head start.

Bring on the angst!

**.**

**Chapter 25 - About Last Night, Part 2**

**.**

"Jumper One to the Athosian camp, this is Sheppard. Come in," the colonel repeated for the third time. The Jumper sailing over miles of white-tipped forest below, Mason zipped up his gray parka and checking his pockets, when the radio finally crackled to life.

_"__Col. Sheppard, my apologies for the delay," _came Feylon's grizzled bass_. "These old bones do not move as well as once they did." _

Sheppard's shoulders began to relax, glad to get an answer. "Not a problem."

_ "We were not expecting to hear from you so soon. To what do we owe the honor?"_**  
**

"Just dropping by for a friendly visit." Mason handed Sheppard his coat as the colonel intuitively cued the navigational display on the HUD. "We're headed your way. Should be touching down in just under four minutes."

"_Understood, Colonel. We look forward to seeing you."_

"Same here. Sheppard out."

They reached their destination right on schedule and, thanks to a handy combination of inertial dampeners, excellent piloting, and the thick blanket of snow cushioning the ground, they barely felt it when the Puddlejumper finally touched down outside the settlement.

Mason strode down the ramp with Sheppard right behind, the state of the Athosian's new home capturing his attention. It looked so different than the last time he was here, a trip cut unceremoniously short when an overdose nearly killed him and he had to be taken back to Atlantis. Previously, it had been in a state of flux with tents, building materials in strategic piles all over the campsite, and fields in need of planting; the makings of a new, stronger community that had yet to see fruition. He'd been too sick to return with Col. Sheppard and the volunteers to help finish the construction, so he hadn't seen all the progress they'd made since. Even in the dead of winter, he could see the Athosians had made this place a home.

Cooking fires, with their fine gray pillars of smoke dotting the sky, kept both pots and the hands of those working outdoors warm. One man chipped away at the crust of ice that had formed in the livestock's water trough overnight, while nearby, a quartet of older children busied themselves building a snow fort. Their efforts were soon interrupted as they were beset by the 'enemy', a trio of smaller kids led by their general, seventeen-year-old Jinto, pelting them with snowballs before being forced to retreat. The thick animal hide tents remained, providing cover and some of them getting splattered with snow, but this morning, most of the activity seemed to be centered around the three large permanent structures that had been raised, far better suited to keeping out the chill and damp of the elements.

Separating themselves from the rest, two cloaked figures were walking toward them. After a few seconds, it was easy enough for Mason to identify Feylon's stilted gait, the winter winds obviously not agreeing with the older man's arthritis. The one with him, it was harder to tell at first with the way they were clutching at the sides of the cloak, but then, a compact yet firm feminine hand reached out to offer Feylon support, whether it was desired or not. A hand that could have only belonged to Jol, his adversary and near-constant companion. Confirming Mason's suspicions, her hood dropped away in sudden gust, revealing the signature streak of gray within her nut brown hair and her strong, weathered heart-shaped face.

"Col. Sheppard," she greeted them both heartily as they drew near, catching them one at a time in a fierce embrace. "Sgt. Capshaw, my dear boy, your color has much improved from when last I saw you. To this day, I have yet to see another so pale in all my life."

Mason didn't try to deny it, given how ill he'd been when he left, though he did suggest that his current pallor was probably more the frigid cold turning his cheeks red than anything else.

Feylon was much more reserved, offering them a simple handshake and a traditional greeting. "It has been many days, Colonel."

"Too many," Sheppard answered, grasping his hand.

"Is it only the two of you?" Feylon inquired while Jol peered behind them, searching for stragglers.

"Teyla did not come with you?" she asked. Teyla's people knew her well enough to know that, if she were able, she would have been there with them. That she wasn't here and Sheppard was immediately set a sudden worry alight in her eyes.

Capshaw and Sheppard exchanged a quick look between them before the colonel explained, "We, uh … had kind of a close call with the baby." Jol's hand covered her mouth as Feylon's attitude remained staid. "Teyla's alright," John added quickly, "She wanted to be here, but the Doc's got her on bed rest for a while."

"I see," Feylon said, soberly. "It is fortunate Teyla has such friends as you, who are able to render aid in such a circumstance, Colonel."

"We are, indeed, grateful," Jol said.

Sheppard's gaze dropped momentarily toward the ground. "Well, I'll be sure to pass that on to Dr. Keller. She's the one who deserves the credit."

"Please. On all of our behalves," Jol insisted. She squeezed John's shoulder. "Come. It would not do to keep you out in this cold weather for long."

In agreement, the group soon fell into step, walking toward the main camp.

"Surely, this is not all you came to speak with us about, Colonel," Feylon said as they went.

Sheppard lips moved back in a tight, acknowledging grimace. "Actually, there are a few things I need to discuss with Halling, if it's not too much trouble?"

"Not at all," said Feylon. "Halling and a few of the others left quite early this morning to cut some additional firewood, but if you do not mind waiting, I am sure he can be fetched relatively soon. They will not have gone far from the settlement."

"Sounds fine. We're not in any hurry."**  
**

"And as you wait, Sergeant, I believe there is someone here who would be most disappointed not to see you while you are here," Jol regarded Mason with a knowing smile. He cast a searching glance over at the melee going on at the unfinished snow fort.

"If you are seeking young Setisse, I believe I saw her drawing in the south building, this morning. I am sure she is still there, and it is as good a place as any to wait until Halling has returned from the forest."

"That'd be great." Mason's hand slipped inside his pocket, checking one last time to make certain it was still there as they continued on.

It was strange for him, being back here again. When he'd said goodbye the last time, Mason truly thought it would be the _last_. Holding Setisse while Jennifer tenderly watched over him, a part of him hoped and prayed he was wrong; the part of him that was able to look the weeping, traumatized little girl in the eye and tell her he was going to be fine, even though he hadn't been able to see any way he ever would. If it weren't for Jennifer, Beckett, and McKay, he knew he wouldn't be here at all. Without Ancient Device 765 and its seemingly miraculous properties, his future had been, at best, non-existent. At worst, Mason feared he would have become a gaunt and raving spector, haunting a padded room in the clutches of a straightjacket.

So much had changed since the morning Setisse had found him OD'd and hanging onto life by his fingernails. He wasn't going to become just another person who had come into his smallest friend's life, only to fade out and disappear as the tides turned. There was a bright white light at the end of the tunnel now, something that hadn't had been there before. It was sometimes blinding, his eyes still having a hard time adjusting to the light. But at least, Mason had the chance to make things right again.

For Setisse, anyway.

.

* * *

.

Mason's eyes flew open, startled awake by what, he didn't know. His arm, that had been flung crookedly over his head came forward, yanking the ear phones out of his ears. Not hearing anything, he reached over and put his hand on the light control. Squinting in the sudden brightness, he checked his watch.

23:08. Not too late, but late enough, apparently.

After taking off, leaving Jennifer and Ronon to do whatever it was they planned on doing and after nearly a good forty-five minutes of quality moping, he'd caught up with Santiago and Tyler in the rec room and played a few rounds of pool. With everything on Mason's mind and Tyler going through his latest break-up that they—officially—didn't ask or tell about, all talk of girls _and_ guys was off the table. He spent the evening with nothing but a few former teammates, a good game, and a beer.

It had been good to get out, but as soon as he got home, the quiet had started to bother him again. Losing patience with himself, he'd turned up his iPod and that was that. He'd fallen asleep at some point.

The unusual jingle made by the Ancient-style doorbell sounded inside his quarters and Mason realized what it was that had woken him.

"Hang on a sec," he yelled at the door, deftly rolling up his ear phone cord and setting his iPod on the nightstand. With a throaty grunt, he rolled out of bed. Slightly drowsy, Mason leaned on the door jamb, waving the locks free and allowing the door to open.

"Jennifer." He lazily craned his neck to check out the hallway beyond, halfway expecting Ronon to be hovering protectively somewhere nearby. But with the exception of the odd passerby, he didn't see anyone. Just Jennifer, playing with her hands, dressed like she'd just come from her big night out. The corners of her mouth were tight, her face introspective and determined.

"Hi."

Mason quit his leisurely posture and folded his arms. "What do you want?"

He was being rude, but considering the lengths he'd already gone to to try and put his restless mood aside with little success … he wasn't in any shape to handle Round Two.

His brusque tone hit its mark, Jennifer bending quietly to absorb the verbal blow. "You … don't have to start with me, Mason. I didn't come here to fight."

"Then, what are you doing here?"

Jennifer looked up at him, a shudder under her breath before she said, "I just wanted to say … you win."

He paused. "What?"

"You win," she repeated, her voice a little stronger this time. "You said you didn't want to be friends and … with how hard things were on you, I tried to respect your wishes." She swallowed. "I guess I was hoping that things might change after you got better, but … you don't have to worry. I won't be bothering you anymore."

She spun and walked away, her flowing blonde waves bouncing behind her, leaving him floundering.

"Jennifer, wait," he choked out, his bare feet anchored to the floor. _What are you doing? She just gave you exactly what you wanted. _It was probably best to let her go and leave it at that, but something in her eyes hit him just as she turned. Earlier, in giving into his desire to make things easier, he'd also given her a taste of hope that things could go back to the way they were. Snapping at her and storming away had only snatched that hope back and torn it in two. He'd really hurt her.

"Oh … dammit … Jennifer, wait!" His legs kicked into gear, carrying him swiftly down the hall. To the soft padding of feet against floor, Mason's thoughts raced. What was he going to do? Talk her out of it? He couldn't do that, but he couldn't just let her leave like this either. "Jennifer, hang on." She stopped under the pressure of his hand hooking her elbow, her cautious gaze lifting to take on his, and Mason's heart sunk. Hundred of unasked questions brimmed inside her eyes' soft halo, probably there since the first time he'd said goodbye. He frowned, his will already seizing up, vulnerable to everything he found extraordinary about her. His fingers wrapped around the bare flesh of her arm, longing stinging them to their very tips, he knew he wasn't going to make it out of this one in one piece.

"Just … come back, okay?" he said, the numbness in his chest growing heavy. "We can talk."

She gave him a clipped, fluttering nod of agreement and it was only then he found he could release her arm, spreading his fingers and letting them fall to his side.

He and Jennifer walked the relatively short distance back to his quarters in silence, the metallic swish of his door opening and closing again the only sound to be heard. Deep in thought, considering all he wanted and all he needed to say, Mason forgot about being polite and asking her to sit. Jennifer just stood in the middle of the room, waiting, filling his vision and making his mind go blank.

His eyes wandered over her. Along with khakis and v-neck blouse, a brown leather bracelet hung around her wrist. The workmanship seemed familiar, the symbol woven inside the leather bands distinctly Satedan. "Nice bracelet," he finally said, stepping forward and taking her hand to get a closer look.

Jennifer looked down at it. "Ronon made it for me. When we were on Lairius."

Mason nodded, remembering him working on something. He hadn't known what it would turn out to be, but he supposed he had his answer. He fingered the thin strips Ronon had intricately worked into something unique and beautiful. It didn't mix with the hand holding it, his rough and calloused right hand riddled with fading white slits, leftovers from a night he'd move heaven and Earth to erase.

"It's … nice," he said again, having a difficult time speaking at all.

"I like him," Jennifer said quietly. She lifted her eyes, taking his with her. "I like him a lot."

"Ronon's a good guy," he whispered in a low rumble, letting her wrist go and backing up a pace. He turned his head a little to the side, finding the wall a much safer place to look.

"Is … " she started. "Is _he_ what's … ?"

"No," Mason answered quickly. He flashed her rueful smile, wishing he'd never told her how he felt. Denial was sometimes far less complicated. "You can date whoever you want, Jennifer. I can't say … it's easy seeing you with him. But … no. That's not it. Not all of it, anyway."

"I don't understand." He caught a teasing glimpse of moisture in her eyes. "If it's not Ronon, then … why can't we go back?"

"What is there to go back to, huh? Chatting while you mix my medication? Watching late night movies together because I'm too sick to sleep? Seriously, Jennifer, is that worth it?"

She shook her head, furiously spurning his last ditch attempt at denial. "Don't do that. Don't! You can jerk me around all you want. You can ignore me for weeks and then, be … sweet and funny, and then, act like we've never met before again. But I am _not _going to let you pretend that it wasn't more than that. Our friendship was never about me being your doctor and you being my patient." Jennifer took in a painful rush of air. "I care about you. I didn't want to lose you then, and I don't want to lose you now."

"You've already lost me, Jen. You just don't know it, yet. I'm not even … " He hunted for the right words to explain. He wasn't entirely sure _he _knew exactly what was going on in his head. "I'm … screwed up."

"What's past is past, Mason. You're better, now. You … " she caught herself, " … _we_ can move on."

"It's not that simple."

"What isn't?"

"I …" Mason clenched his teeth, verbalizing what was bothering him so much—to _her—_seeming impossible. She deserved the truth, all of it, even if it wasn't what she wanted to hear. Even if all it did was hurt them both more. "When I got shot … I went down and I don't think I ever really got back up. I think I died. At least, the person I was did. I've been just … existing … ever since. Waiting for my body to catch up with the rest of me."

He looked up and saw Jennifer hanging on his every word, wanting to understand so badly what it was that was driving him away from her.

"There have been times when … I didn't even want to do _that_."

Her eyes fell as she said softly, "I know."

Mason nodded. His deepest, most guarded secret and she was the only one who knew. Even at his lowest, he couldn't envision himself eating his own gun, but if someone else had pointed one at his heart and threatened to end him once and for all, he might not have stepped out of the way. "You wouldn't let me drown, Jen, and I'm more grateful for that than you'll ever know."

She smiled appreciatively, but it didn't last, knowing he wasn't finished. "But things have changed."

"Things have changed," he echoed. "Now that I'm not doped up, or sick, or … in extreme pain anymore, I can look in the mirror and I see bits of the old me coming back. I feel different and it's … amazing and at the same time, it scares the hell out of me. I'm not sure if I'm still me or I'm him. I don't know who I am anymore."

Jennifer came up and reached for his hand. "You'll figure it out."

"I know. I know it'll be okay and so much of that is because of you, Jennifer, but … " He hated himself for saying this out loud, even as he was selfishly relishing her gentle touch. "I need to go back to work. I need time to figure it all out and … I can't do that with you."

The words fell from his mouth like a lash across bare skin, Jennifer wincing as they landed and Mason wanted nothing more than to take it back. He tightened his grip around her hand, squeezing and holding her firm. Shaky, she kept her composure. "I get it, Mason. I finally get it. I remind you of everything you want to forget and … there's nothing either one of us can do about that, is there?"

Mason snaked his left arm around her neck and pulled her in close. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "No," he said, regretfully. "That's not it, at all."

Jennifer looked up into his eyes. "Then, why?"

He exhaled and answered with every ounce of … _love _… he had. _God, when had he been so stupid as to fall in love?_ "It's because … you make me forget. Everything. I care about you so much that, when I'm with you, nothing else matters anymore." Nothing. Not the past, not the future. Not even his recovery. Earlier, he'd nearly forgotten Ronon existed. Then, when she was gone, it all flooded back and it hurt so much he couldn't breathe. "You could be a crutch for me, Jennifer. You and I could go back to being friends and everything happened between us could disappear."

"Would that be such a bad thing? Don't you deserve a fresh start?"

"It might feel like a clean slate, but it wouldn't be. Not really," he said. His expression grew dark and thunderous. "You can't just sweep things under the rug and hope they disappear. Things that happened between you and I … I _can't _just forget. Not if I ever want to really get better."

She eyes darted from side to side, confused, so he reached down and brought her wrist up directly in front of her, showing her his former handiwork and the scars on his hand that had followed. It happened to be the same one now guarded by Ronon's bracelet. "Do you remember this?"

"Yes," she answered breathlessly.

"But you don't care."

Jennifer's face grew tough. "No."

"I sure as hell do. It's literally seared into my memory as if someone had plunged a branding iron straight into my brain. I can't … I _shouldn't _be able to just forget about that and walk away like it never happened!" It came out gnarled, deep, and harsher than he had wanted. He pulled himself back. "I could have hurt you, Jennifer. _Really _hurt you."

"I don't believe that."

"You're too trusting."

"It wasn't your fault," she argued.

"It wasn't yours, either, Jen!"

A tear streaked down her cheek and Mason felt drawn to take her pain away, hugging her close. He tilted his head, so that his mouth was almost level with her ear. "You didn't deserve that. You could _never_ deserve that."

Her arms came around his back, gripping him snugly. Molding together, Mason sucked in rapidly, unprepared for how he overwhelming it would feel to be this close to her again after so long apart. Caught inside the heady sensation, the skin of his cheek and the tip of his nose caressed the softness of her temple, moving down to nuzzle her along the slope of her cheek. He could her breath growing faster, his hands beginning to run slowly down the length and curve of her back and leaning in with his jaw to get high on the sweet scent of her one last time.

They breathed as one, his eyes a navy fire as they scorched her skin with barely controlled want, his mouth defying sense as it crept toward hers, brushing her cheek as it went. His necked arched teasingly, threatening to carry him too far and make him forget again. Her lips were slightly open, panting heavily in nervous anticipation of him binding them together in a kiss, but never quite meeting. Both of them withholding from the other for their own reasons that couldn't be denied.

But, damn him—even after all he'd told her about needing time to properly recover, even after promising Ronon that he wouldn't get in the way—if he knew she thought about him with the same raging, burning, neverending fire as he did her, he wouldn't care about any of it. He would pour himself into her and let her drown out the haunted cries of his past. He would run his pleading lips down to sample the salt and sweet of her neck, and back up to find out if she still wore that strawberry lip gloss that he could still taste in his dreams. He'd wrap his arms beneath the swell of her backside, carry her over to his bed, and try to make who and what he was become nothing more than a fevered moan on her lips.

He'd forget everything, even the fact he has was still the same unstable jerk who'd already hurt her once.

Reluctantly, he let her fall away from his arms. Mason backed away, an aching groan escaping as air rushed into the tight space he'd vacated, clearing his vision, but strangling his voice. "Goodbye, Jennifer."

Speechless, stunned, a tear sped down her cheek, leaving a watermark on her flushed complexion.

Mason reached up with his thumb and, with a long, careful stroke, wiped it away. "That's what you really came to say, remember?"

Her lips parted as though she believed herself capable of arguing, but nothing came out. No denials or protestations. Just silence.

"Just say it," he prodded her, his voice coming out harsher than he intended. Softening, he tried again to persuade her to let go. She had to be the one to let go, because he wasn't sure he ever could. "Once you do … you can stop worrying. I'm going to be fine. I don't know that I ever expected to be able to say that, but … I really am. I'm gonna be fine and a lot of that is because of you. You can turn around and walk away with a clear conscience. Live your life." He attempted a smile as razor blades tore at his throat. "Don't look back."

She was crying. God, he wished she wouldn't cry. "Mason, I … _never_ meant to … "

"Don't, Jen. Just don't." The time for apologies were over, and the last thing he could stand to hear her, a person he'd lost his temper with more times than he could remember, had nearly quit on, and had inflicted physical pain on, was how _she_ never meant to hurt _him_. "Just say goodbye."

She nodded, slowly, painfully. She finally understood. She was finally finding that strength inside herself he knew was there, and surrendering to what was ultimately best for both of them.

"Goodbye, Mason."

.

* * *

.

"Masy!"

Caught with his mind light years away, Capshaw found his arms full, a whirling ball of fur-lined leather and legs attached to a tinkling pixie-like voice.

"Hey, kid," he said, returning the enthusiastic hug. Setisse's long, dark hair tickled his nose, but he didn't move to brush the errant hairs away, instead peaking over her shoulder at the scattered papers left in her tiny wake. "I brought something for you," he said.

She lifted her head and setting her pint-sized body back on the ground, he pulled out a Snickers bar and crouched down to her level. "I promised, remember? You ate your carrots, so this is rightfully yours."

Shyly, she reached up and took it into her palm. "You promised to come back, too."

"And here I am," he said, gesturing broadly to the tables and warm furnishings around them.

"Does this mean you are all better, too?" she asked, hopefully chewing on her pinky.

A hot mist encroached around his eyes and he quickly wiped it away. Gulping down a sudden, hard lump in his throat, he smiled. "Close enough."**  
**

.

* * *

While John waited for Halling to arrive, he sat at one of the long tables nearest to the fireplace, not far from where Setisse was munching happily on a candy bar and showing Capshaw her latest drawings done with bits of leftover charcoal from the fire. The chill wasn't that bad. The relief crews he'd arranged from Atlantis had seen to it that the community building was comfortably insulated from the elements, but Jol had insisted.

"We get so few these days, but never let it be said that the Athosian people do not know how to treat a guest," she explained shortly before all but shoving a piping hot cup of tea in his hands.**  
**

"I'm not a guest, just a friend," he corrected her.**  
**

"All the more reason not to let you freeze, Colonel," she said with a wink.**  
**

It was nearing noon on this planet and Jol busied herself preparing the afternoon meal for her people. It was just as well. John liked the strong-willed woman a lot, but she wasn't one to mince words and he wasn't quite ready to deal with the reams of questions he could tell were simmering on the tip of her tongue.

He cautiously sipped at his tea. One more conversation about all of this was probably all he could take. He couldn't tell Capshaw because, being military, they could arrest him as an accessory just for failing to report him, but he'd had a long talk with Ronon and Rodney late last night after Teyla had gone to sleep. They had been bad enough. He was glad to leave it to Halling to be the one to fill Jol in later.

He'd already said everything he had to say.

.

* * *

.

He and Teyla clung to each other for nearly two hours before John caught himself nodding off. Considering he'd scarcely slept more than two hours at a stretch since before the funeral, the day Teyla had first hit the floor, he wasn't all that surprised.

Sheppard got up and drew Teyla a bath. After doing a stint in the infirmary, he knew there was nothing quite like being able to wash off the acrid mixture of angst, disinfectant, and the leftover aura of other people's well-meaning, but unwelcome handling. He was also hopeful the hot water would do its part to help her relax. He wanted them _both _to get a good night's sleep, for once.

The large tub filled and brimming with delicate, white bubbles, John helped her undress. Teyla was moving slowly, tiredly. He'd monitored her closely after her unforeseen glimpse of the future—or _a _future—ready to call Keller at a moment's notice, but thankfully, Teyla's sapped energy seemed to be the sole side effect. Knowing what he had in mind, she allowed him to manipulate her body without a single word of either approval or protest as he got her into the bathroom.

She slipped gracefully into the water, her blossoming curves taking his breath away. Her eyelids fluttered to a close as she immersed herself in the water, a deeply satisfied moan signaling her pleasure.

He propped his shoulder against the wall, leaning in the doorway. At least, he'd done something right today. "Let me know when you're ready to get out," he said softly, turning to give her some privacy.

"John," Teyla called after him. "Would you join me?"

His eyebrows rose at the sound of her voice. That was the first time she'd spoken in quite a while, being forced to experience a possible version of herself give up her child painful to process. It hadn't been an easy experience for either of them, and he had the feeling Teyla was primarily asking him in because she couldn't reconcile letting him out of her reach just yet.

"I don't know. If I get in there with you, we'd be leaving John Jr. in a pretty bad spot," he quipped, his eyes roving overtly over her slick, naked skin. All joking aside, even if it hadn't been near the top of the list of things they weren't allowed to do for a while, sex was the last thing on his mind, but he was going to do his best to try and lighten the mood.

He couldn't help but smile when he met with success and Teyla subtly grinned. "Perhaps you might consider it anyway? For me?"

Appearing as put upon as possible, John began to tug at his t-shirt. "I'm just gonna have to take a cold shower afterward."

She made a face that suggested she wasn't buying the martyr act.

He smirked, his clothes hitting the floor. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time I've taken a cold shower because of you. Probably won't be the last."

Raising his leg over the side, John climbed in behind her. Maneuvering himself into the water, his legs parted and stretched around Teyla while she wedged herself into the newly formed pocket. Her head rested against his chest, her hair pillowing across his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her temple and she sighed contentedly, closing her eyes.

"Yes, that is much better."

John grinned. He reached out for the soap sitting on the edge of the tub. Working it into a lather, he ran it over Teyla's body, into the contours of her neck, over the soft rise of her breasts above the waterline. Happy in the quiet moments between them, John washed her everywhere he could reach without making her move. He, then, made his way downward with a wash cloth, lightly scrubbing her arms, the swell of her hard stomach and the hidden reaches below. He reveled in the soft sound of her breath catching as he worked, moving to massage her back next, unabashedly looping his left arm across her bosom to brace her, while his right hand pressed the cloth carefully along her spine.

"How's that?" he asked.

"Mmm … wonderful … " She tilted her head toward his center, peering quietly up at him. "You must do this more often."

John's head curled around her, hugging her neck and nuzzling his nose along her cheeks, breathing her in. He loved this woman so much, every square inch of her. "You know I'd do anything for you, don't you?" his low whisper soft in her ear. "I'd go to the ends of the universe for you, Teyla."

"As I would for you," she hummed as her hand ran along his thigh. "And farther."

He let the washcloth slip through his fingers and slide out of reach. His arm encircled her midsection, their future daughter. Their future, period. "No matter what happens, if it means leaving Atlantis and never looking back, I'm going to take care of you and the baby. I don't care what some vision says, I won't let anything get in the way of us being a family. A real family."

John wasn't about to go placing the facts of his family's future in the hands of a random flash that had proven far too unpredictable on every other occasion they'd had to meet someone with the ability. As far as he was concerned, and he was sure Teyla would agree, their future wasn't written yet. It was for them to make and he was going to make _sure_ it turned out differently.

"It would be difficult to leave here," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "This city has become my home in so many ways. I had hoped to raise her here."

"I know. Me, too." John said sadly, but resolute. "I've got to start putting together a few plans, just in case it comes to that. Hopefully, we'll never need them, but … "

" … we must be prepared," she finished.

He kissed her cheek. "You deserve better than this, Teyla. After everything you've sacrificed to be here, everything you've done to help us … you deserve more."

"As long as I have you and our child, I have everything that I need."

John looked down at her, amazed. She made it seem so easy, picking up and moving on. Of course it was hard on her, the idea of having to leave behind her friends and the life she'd made here, but Teyla had done this before. More times than she could probably count thanks to the Wraith. And thanks to him.

"I'm sorry for getting you into this mess," he said, his thoughts years ago and a mile away as Teyla rolled over, lying across his lap, sloshing the hot water around as she moved. "You know, that very first day I sat in the Chair and it lit up, I thought … maybe I'd finally found my place." A nostalgic smile slipped free. "An _insane _place—and believe you me, Elizabeth had her hands full trying to talk me into this crazy mission—but, I thought maybe it was a place I could belong. That my ATA gene was my golden ticket to a better life. Someplace I could make a difference."

Her open gaze came even with his, listening attentively as he bared his thoughts more openly than he had in a long, long time. "It made you feel special."

"When you walk into a room that's been asleep for thousands of years, or touch something that won't listen to anyone else, and it responds as if it was there, waiting for you and only you the whole time … " John paused. That feeling still overwhelmed him with awe. "How could you not feel something with that?

She smiled.

He shook his head to himself. "I never thought I'd say this, but for the first time, I look at you and I wish I could give it all back. You deserve a normal life, Teyla. A normal, trouble-free pregnancy that doesn't include the possibility of having to go on the lam to keep your child safe. A real home. Everything I can't give you. Me and my stupid genes … "

John saw her move to comfort him and stopped her. He made her sit still in his lap and caressed her round stomach, that special place carrying the little life he loved so much and wanted so badly. His hazel eyes misted over in unexpressed regret while he rubbed back and forth across her belly.

"We might never be able to have another baby, Teyla. _I _**… **might never be able to give you another baby. Any pregnancy you have with me, the same genetic problem would be there. The ATA gene and Wraith gene would be at each other's throats and you would be the one to get caught in the crossfire. We might get lucky again, but … we could also wind up having a string of miscarriages." Something that would break his heart as well as hers. "And that's _my _fault."

He looked away and swallowed thickly, though his hands remained fixed and curled on his unborn child.

"I was not aware you had given thought to us having more children, John," she finally said, covering his occupied hands with her own.

He took in her radiance, her natural beauty. "I love you, Teyla. So much more than I ever thought was possible. How could I not?"

Teyla's eyes shone. "I confess I have had thoughts of adding to our family one day, as well." Her fingers lifted up to stroke his face with a warm flick of her thumb. "When I have been blessed with such a man, how could I not?"

John's mouth broke out in a smile, despite seeing the worry behind her eyes, and despite his fantasies of giving Teyla as many children as she ever wanted seeming more like the impossible dream than one man's meager hopes for the future.

At least, he still had her, and he still had his daughter within his grasp.

"It did occur to me, however, that any future pregnancies might prove difficult," she admitted. "It is true, we have knowledge that we did not have before that may help us to manage it better, but … it still hardly seems possible that my body could reject a child of its own making for the sake of such a small difference." Teyla grimaced. "I cannot help but wonder, if I had done things differently … perhaps if I were stronger … "

"Your strength is what's gotten her this far," he said, adoringly. "I've never met anyone who could even come close to you, Teyla."**  
**

Her face brightened at his approval and her hands left her stomach to ensnare his neck. He followed her, creating waves as his arms provided the perfect complement by embracing the small of her back and drawing her flush against him.**  
**

"If you are sure in that belief, John, then you must also believe our love and my strength may yet bear us another child, someday." Teyla's lips brushed his cheek as she spoke. "I pray you are right, but if not … if having only this little girl to be a mother to is the price I must pay for having you in my life, then I will gladly pay it."

"You shouldn't have to."

"Nevertheless, I would. Regardless of your genetic heritage and mine, I would not trade this child for any other. She is special, and not because of any mystical abilities. Because she is yours."

John could barely breathe, his chest seemed already too full with love for this woman to be bothered with something so trivial as oxygen. "Carson called her a miracle."

"She is."

"So is her mother."

John sought Teyla's lips, catching them in a flourish of comfort and passion, soft, lingering, yet desperate in the need of their two hearts to connect and find home in each other. The luscious sweeps of their mouths against one another were in perfect harmony, John lacing his fingers through her hair and caressing her both with his body and his tongue. Her hand at the back of his neck pulled him in closer as the other traveled down the hardened muscle and hair braced beneath her heaving breasts, an enchanting sigh escaping between stolen gasps.

A part of him sentenced to being underwater made its full presence felt, hot and pressing hungrily against Teyla's glorious backside. John's mouth reluctantly parted from hers, his voice husky and deep as they traded heated breaths. "Cold shower, here I come."

Teyla fell against him, quivering with laughter as he grinned and peppered her hair with much smaller tokens of affection than he might have liked, but for now, they would have to do. She adjusted her position, falling back into the relaxed recline they'd been in previously. Her fingers immediately began affectionately tracing a path up and down his leg.

"Unngh … the things you do to me, sweetie … "

"Should I apologize?" she asked, smiling proudly. The sight of her happy was more than he could have asked for.**  
**

He leaned in and pressed another kiss to her cheek, still feeling an exhilarating throbbing in his groin. "Don't you dare."**  
**

They lapsed into another drawn out silence, but unlike the one earlier, it wasn't an uncomfortable one spent with neither one sure of what to do. It was the opposite, filled with, maybe not relief in its truest sense, but a renewal of sorts. And, in that, they managed to find _some _relief. Teyla decided she wasn't the only one in need of a thorough scrubbing and John was more than willing to let her skilled and nimble fingers work him over. It was only when the water started to turn cold that they finally decided it was time to get out.

After a quick dry, he tied a towel around his waist and helped Teyla out of the water, a thick towel ready and waiting for her. He draped it around her, the large cloth swallowing her everywhere except around her middle. John was bending at the knees, preparing to pick her up when she placed a hand on his arm.

He looked at her, questioning the pensive stillness she suddenly found herself in.

"John, do you still plan on sending Maj. Lorne to speak with Halling in the morning?"

He blinked in surprise. "Yeah. We've got to get this Michael investigation going somewhere, and he and the Kysonians are still our best place to start. Why?"

She squeezed his forearm. "It should be youto fly the mission."

"Teyla, I can't leave you. Not after … "

"There are others here that can assist me, John. For now, it is more important that you go," she urged. "You need to be the one to speak with Halling. An opportunity like this is unlikely to present itself again before the Daedalus arrives."

John's face darkened, comprehending what she meant. 'How much do you want me to tell him?"

.

* * *

.

"Colonel Sheppard, this is a pleasant surprise." Halling, garbed in a flowing leather coat and thick gloves, stretched his hand out in greeting. **  
**

John stood up quickly from the long wooden bench and took his hand. "Good to see you, too. Sorry for dropping in without calling first."**  
**

"Do not trouble yourself about it, Colonel. You are always welcome among our people."**  
**

"Thanks," he said. "That's … good to hear."

Halling walked around to the other side of the table, shedding his gloves and the cheerfulness of their pleasantries as he went. His expression turned gray in the fire's light, he asked with concern of the sincerest form, "I was told Teyla has had some trouble with the child. Is this true?"

John nodded. "She's okay. She's still pregnant and, according to every doctor we can get our hands on, the baby seems to be doing just fine."

"Well, that is welcome news, indeed," Halling said, a smile making a tentative comeback. "I am sure you were quite relieved yourself, Colonel."

"Yeah."

"My own familial love for Teyla aside, I cannot tell you how much her child has come to mean to our people."

A young girl, about twelve years old, came over with a cup of tea for Halling. Even seated, the older man towered over her, but he accepted the cup with a gentleness that many would have found unexpected had they not known him like John did. He took a grateful sip of the warming liquid, his fingers cradling the cup and greedily soaking in the heat.

"Having Teyla here with us while we were settling on this new world was a constant reminder that we, as a people, have a chance at a new beginning and a future. After being held captive for so long and our numbers so decimated, having such hope again was a tremendous blessing for us. There are few societies I know of that could have overcome such a deficit, but we have managed to do well thus far."

John managed a weak smile, not entirely sure how to respond to that. A lot of the time, he was so wrapped up in Atlantis and his life there that he forgot what an important role Teyla played here among her people, even in her absence. He should've realized that his daughter would have some role to play in that as well, but it honestly hadn't occurred to him.

Noticing the awkward turn, Halling placed his tea on the table. "I apologize, Colonel. There were other matters you wished to discuss, were there not?"

Sheppard shifted, glad to be getting down to business. "A few things actually. We, uh, had a run-in about a week ago with a squad of Michael's hybrids."

John gave Halling a few moments to let it sink in. Michael was bound to be a sensitive subject not only for what he had done to the Athosians as a whole, but also to Halling in particular. It had taken him quite a while to recover from the ordeal of being a subject of Michael's experiments.

"I see," the big man said quietly as he prepared himself, his shoulders sinking slightly. "Was anyone hurt?"

"We lost two good people, but most got home in one piece."

"I am sorry, Colonel," he offered sincerely, as though he'd played some part in the deaths of Maj. Teldy and Capt. Vega.

"It wasn't your fault, Halling. We all knew Michael would rebuild his forces sometime."

Halling nodded in mute acknowledgment that he was correct. "How can I be of assistance to you?"

"Well, we managed to take one alive and brought it back to Atlantis for questioning. He didn't give us much. He wasn't very coherent. Mostly, he spouted off a lot of Michael's propaganda. The rest was … nonsense." John felt a twinge of guilt in whitewashing the incident with the prisoner, but it was better than painting him the entire sick picture.

"That is not surprising," Halling said. "Very few of Michael's subjects remained … intact, even prior to their alteration. The M- … " He bit his tongue. "Michael was adamant that only the strongest and healthiest take their place among his acolytes. Most were tortured. Quite brutally. Those that survived … were offered up for the change, but many were driven mad long before that happened. In the end, Michael required only our subservience, not our sanity."

John scowled, having seen the barely visible lines of pain on his face growing deeper as he told his story. "I'm sorry for having to do this. It's probably the last thing you ever wanted to talk about."

"I thank you, Colonel, but I wish to help if I can," Halling came back quickly. "My memories of the time afterward are … muddled, but if it is at all possible, I want to try."

John nodded. "He did tell us that Michael is behind the spread of a plague, probably randomly contaminating planets as he moves. We've heard a few rumors to that effect and reports of mass casualties, but nothing solid. He said it would somehow help to cripple the Wraith. Do you remember _anything _like that? A starting point for us to look? A planet? A name?"

Halling's brow furrowed in heavy concentration, trying hard to access his memories of his time as one of Michael's minions, but eventually it broke. "I am sorry. There is a certain amount of familiarity, but … I cannot recall."

"That's okay, Halling. It was a long shot, anyway. Just had to ask."**  
**

He seemed to take some small comfort in that. "I understand."**  
**

"We were thinking of dropping in on the Kysonians again. We could always use your help with them if you're up for it," John suggested, lightly drumming the wooden table with the pads of his fingers. "Seems they'd heard a few rumors themselves a few months back. We thought we'd take a team a see if they had any new information to share, but given how … fussy … they were the last time we were there, I was hoping you'd be amenable to tagging along and smoothing things out for us."**  
**

"Yes. I could certainly do that," Halling smiled, genuinely happy to be able contribute something.**  
**

"Good," John said, the wide, yet thin smile on his face feeling forced even to him. "Team leaves in three days."**  
**

"I will make the necessary preparations."**  
**

John nodded absently, his gaze wandering aimlessly away. Before long, he realized he was tapping his fingers louder than he had been previously and crossed his arms. _A great beginning._**  
**

Halling eyed him. "Was there something else, Colonel?"**  
**

Sheppard attempted to use stealth to survey the open room one last time, ensuring a measure of privacy, but all it did was confound Halling further. To appease his curiosity, John said, "It's of a more personal nature. It's about Teyla. And the baby." **  
**

"Oh?"**  
**

"It's kind of a long story, but … we've discovered recently that she has gifts. The baby."

John didn't know what he expected, but it certainly wasn't the beaming grin that appeared. "So, Teyla is expecting a girl. I would like to offer my congratulations to you, Colonel."

"Thanks." The breathy reply was soon cleared away as John let out a lackluster cough.

Halling lifted the tea cup toward him in a sort of toast, although John was sure both of them would have preferred a bit of Ruus wine to the herbal concoction for the occasion. The father-to-be reciprocated as best he could.

"And she has managed to pass on her talent to her progeny. It is quite astounding you could know such a thing while the child is still in the womb," Halling added with interest.

John shook his head, being careful to tread lightly. "I'm not just talking about being able to sense the Wraith, Halling. There's more. A lot more."

"I see." Despite his answer, Sheppard was sure he didn't.

_I do not keep secrets from my people, John, _he remembered Teyla informing him under no uncertain terms, but John was still wary of getting into too much detail on his daughter's abilities. For the time being. The Athosians had come a long way in their understanding of the kinds of 'magical' things possible in the universe just in the few years he'd known them, but John couldn't help but remember how Teyla had once described the feeling of being one among them who possessed the Gift. _I__t sets one apart, _she'd told him_._John knew the Athosians weren't prone to blindly following in the footsteps of the past. They were better, smarter people than that, but he also didn't want to run the risk of his child becoming ostracized because of lingering superstitions.

"Look, Halling, I know that none of this is going to make much sense and when the time is right, I promise Teyla will explain everything, but for now, I need you to trust me."

Halling leaned back, appraising him carefully. "Very well."

John came forward onto his elbows, so he could speak in a lower tone without sacrificing Halling's ability to hear. "It's … complicated and it's probably nothing, but there's someone from my planet coming to Atlantis, someone from the government, and it may not be safe for Teyla and the baby to stay there for a while."

"Teyla always has her home here, Colonel. If it is not safe for her in the city of the Ancestors, it is here she belongs."

"No, I … " He caught himself before he got too animated. "I can't bring her here. This would be the first place they'd come looking for us."

Halling's demeanor grew very serious. fully taking in that John wasn't just talking about taking Teyla on a day trip to a spa somewhere. He was talking about deserting his post, a criminal offense that would finally and officially obliterate his career. And in one bold stroke, he would also be effectively cutting himself off from ever returning to Earth again. Sheppard doubted Halling understood the crime and punishment of it all, but as a former prisoner himself, he would know what it meant for John to never have the freedom to return home. In that, Sheppard was confident his request would be taken with all due consideration.

"Teyla can't be moved easily right now, so planet hopping isn't really an option. I think I know where I can go to keep her safe until everything blows over and she can come back here to stay, but I may need some outside support for a while. Supplies, that kind of thing. Just until the baby's born and Teyla has time to recuperate." He searched Halling's face for some sign of what was going through his head. With his hand partially covering his mouth, he was difficult to read. "Like I said, this will probably wind up being nothing and we can all go on with our lives as normal. Politics on Earth can get pretty convoluted and it's hard to know which way the pendulum is gonna swing. But, for Teyla's sake, I need to be ready for anything and I'm hoping I can count on your help."

Finally finished, John held his breath waiting for a response, but the wait was far shorter than could he ever have conceived. Halling reached across the table, his gargantuan hand clasping John's shoulder in friendship. "Col. Sheppard, for Teyla and for all you have done for the Athosian people, you need not ask. Whatever you should need, we will provide."

A massive weight lifted from John's body and he found himself temporarily at a loss for words. "Thank you, Halling. Just … thank you."

"I could not in good conscience abandon you in your time of need, Colonel. You never gave up on our people. How could we possibly consider doing the same?"

"Sounds incredibly fair to me," John said, enjoying the moment and the gradual loosening of the muscles in his neck. Any tighter and he would've been in dire need of a masseuse. He exhaled and relaxed his posture a little. "You know, Halling, since we're … talking things out, and I realize that I'm probably … pushing my luck a little bit, but there is _one _more thing."

Halling chuckled. "You do not waste time, Colonel Sheppard."

John smirked and shrugged. "Can't afford to."

"Then, let us not waste another moment."

John nodded and took a deep breath. "There's a tradition we have on my planet. I realize you probably do things a little differently here, but I still feel like I should, um … " His features danced around the words that he'd rehearsed and were teetering on the tip of his tongue. "I want to ask Teyla to marry me. To be my wife. I … can't imagine a day when she isn't there and I don't ever want to imagine a life where I'm not her husband. She's everything to me. She has been since the moment I met her."

Halling's face held a smile known only to someone who'd once had the same heart-wrenching, soul-shattering, life-altering kind of love he did. "Colonel, I am honored that you would choose to share this with me, but it is not for me to grant Teyla's hand."**  
**

"I know. I know it's Teyla's choice," John assured him. "It's just … I respect you, Halling. You and the rest of the Athosians are the closest thing Teyla has to family and … it would mean a lot to know I have your blessing."

Halling nodded regally. "Then, rest easy, Colonel. You have it. And it will be _our _honor, the day the Athosian people can count you as one of our own, my friend."


End file.
